


Tease

by WatermelonTuesdays



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Anal Sex, Background Hance, Blow Jobs, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Boys Kissing, Businessman Shiro, But just a little, But just like the barest hint of a foot job, CEO Shiro (Voltron), Consent, Daddy Kink, Edgeplay, Edging, Explicit Consent, Facials, First Kiss, First Meetings, Food, Foot Jobs, Forehead Kisses, Gay Disaster Shiro (Voltron), Gay Panic, Get wreckt Richard Gere!, Grinding, Hair Washing, Hand Feeding, Keith is a Tease (Voltron), Keith is a brat, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation, No Angst, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Premature Ejaculation, Public Display of Affection, Rimming, Shiro is 35, Size Difference, Skinny Dipping, Smoking, Somnophilia, Sugar Daddy, Top Keith (Voltron), Top Shiro (Voltron), Under-Desk Blow Jobs, Voyeurism, age gap, almost a strip tease, background lotura, briefest of slightest of tiniest mentions of Allura being pregnant, car, feeding each other, goatse - Freeform, hint of somno, keith is 19, like the cum kind, references to masturbation, upside down blow jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:13:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 57,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23606602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WatermelonTuesdays/pseuds/WatermelonTuesdays
Summary: When Shiro spots 19-year-old Keith shivering in the rain, he can't help but take pity. When Keith invites himself to Shiro's penthouse, Shiro can't refuse. In fact, Shiro can't refuse Keith anything.Except: Shiro won't let Keith pay him back with sex. And Keith, being the brat he is, tests the limits of Shiro's patience, determined to blue-ball Shiro until one of them gives in.---"Come on. I'm hungry. You could take me back to Maple and Terraceview and feed me something good." There's a clear double entendre in Keith's shark smile.And Shiro is so weak."How old are you?"Because Shiro might be weak, but he's old enough to know much better than he's been acting. There are some lines you don't cross. Not when you're 35."19."That's an awfully convenient age.Shiro's thoughts must be broadcast across his face because a moment later Keith slips his wallet out of his back pocket. He leans across the table to hand his ID over, and smiles while Shiro looks it over and does the math.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 930
Kudos: 841





	1. Oh What a Night!

It's raining when Shiro first spots him. Bare armed and shivering in the cold, pulling on a cigarette like it will keep him warm.

Shiro's first thought isn't that he's beautiful. It isn't that he's young, either, though both thoughts cross his mind in close succession. No, his first thought is that the boy looks miserable. He looks like a drenched cat.

Shiro doesn't smoke, not since that one time in his undergrad when he tried to look cool for a boy and smoked an entire cigarette. It was very cool, up until the point when he promptly turned green and was the sickest he's ever been all across the boy's genuine suede shoes. Still, Shiro finds himself sidling up to the boy, standing upwind so that his wide shoulders and long trench coat take the brunt of the rain, and he asks the boy for a spare.

Clever blue eyes look Shiro up and down even as he tilts his lithe little body into Shiro's warmth. 

"Smokes aren't cheap," he says at first. His voice is lower and richer than Shiro expected. The boy inspects Shiro's face, his blue eyes giving nothing away, then all at once he's standing up straight and tilting his body even closer to Shiro's chest, reaching behind him to pull out a squished pack of cigarettes. "Buy me a coffee to make it up to me."

It's not a question. Though the way he tips the pack in Shiro's direction is. 

Like he knows Shiro's not a smoker just by the look of him.

Still, Shiro's eyes are trapped in blue as he reaches out and plucks a thin stick from the pack. He has it all the way in his mouth before he realizes he's missed a step.

"Uh... light?" he says, dumbly. He hopes the chill of the autumn rain has marked his cheeks pink enough to hide his blush. 

Nothing could hide the flush of Shiro's cheeks as the boy hooks an arm around Shiro's neck and lifts onto his toes. He leans into Shiro's space, impossibly close. Shiro's heart races and his eyes dilate to take in the rain-flecked face before him.

And then the red tip of the boy's cigarette touches Shiro's and he mutters a low order for Shiro to "draw." The red glows between them and then Shiro's lungs fill with that acrid, noxious smoke he remembers so well.

Just like that, the boy is back on his feet and leaning against the cafe wall, as if he hadn't just hooked Shiro behind the navel with his daring.

It takes Shiro a few shallow puffs of his cigarette to refocus, and when he does, he finds himself falling into the boy's gravity. He leans protectively over the boy, letting his jacket fall open to create a better barrier for the wind and rain. 

The boy just looks at him. Keeps looking at him. Like he can read every thought out of Shiro's brain and he's still making up his mind whether or not to judge him.

"You, uh... from around here?" Shiro asks. It's not smooth, but it makes the boy's lips quirk. God, he can't be older than 18. Should Shiro even be speaking to him?

Shiro takes another quick puff as the boy shrugs easily out of his question. The boy hardly blinks and it's making Shiro lightheaded. 

That. Or the nicotine is already getting to him. Shiro lets his hand drop to the side so it can burn out in the air rather than in his lungs. 

"Where're you from?" the boy asks. A slender hand reaches out and pulls at Shiro's tie like he's fixing it, but Shiro has the clear impression he's actually doing the opposite.

Shiro swallows thickly before he answers. "Maple and Terraceview." It doesn't occur to him the boy didn't mean his actual address until he sees the smirk wrapped around the butt of a cigarette. "I mean, uh. I'm from Michigan. Uh, Japan first. Then Michigan. Then here."

"At Maple and Terraceview." The boy pulls at his tie one last time then drops his hand. He doesn't lean back against the wall this time. He stays in Shiro's orbit.

More like Shiro's in his orbit.

"Ye-ah." Shiro wants to rub at the back of his neck but the cigarette in his fingers stops him. 

"And where'd you get this?" Shiro's mind grinds to a halt, his breath stopping in his lungs, as quick fingers pluck his prosthetic arm from the air and lift it up for closer inspection. "Michigan or Japan?"

Nimble fingers crawl along the metal flesh of Shiro's arm, plucking at his fingers and running through the palm of his hand. 

"The Rockies, actually. Plane crash."

The boy hums like that's only mildly interesting and keeps his blue eyes trained on the hand. Shiro takes it as an opportunity to do his own inspection. Those blue eyes are framed by delicate lashes that collect little drops of rain like a flower in a summer storm. His dark hair is likewise haloed in droplets that catch on straw flyaways. The lips that hug the slim paper of the cigarette look pink and plump, and they flex with every slow draw the boy takes.

He's enchanting, but so young. And Shiro is far too old for such a boy to make him as giddy as he feels - again, maybe he can blame the nicotine. 

With a final drag, the boy drops Shiro's hand and flicks his butt to the ground. Shiro follows suit, dropping his hardly-smoked cigarette to the pave. He doesn't bother to stamp it out in this rain.

His eyes catch on those blue ones again as the boy leans in and blows a smooth lungful of smoke directly into Shiro's face.

"How 'bout that coffee?"

Speaking eludes Shiro, so he steps back and swings an arm for the boy to proceed. He holds the door once the boy swings it open, and follows him into the warm, cheery light of the coffee shop.

There's precious few people in the brightly lit cafe. Unsurprising, considering it's 9:30 on a Thursday night and it's raining. There's an old man in the corner nodding off in his chair, another man shuffling through the racks of magazines at the back of the room, and a teen behind the counter looking bored.

Shiro's boy, for what else is Shiro to call him, hooks his fingers into the cuff of Shiro's jacket and pulls him up to the counter. 

The teen there is tall and lanky. He looks Shiro's boy over like he's not impressed, then his dark eyes follow the line of the boy's arm to where it holds Shiro's jacket and the teen's expression turns dour. 

"Keith," he says, exasperated.

Shiro's boy's eyes narrow. "Lance." It's a warning, but the other boy just rolls his eyes.

"Shiro," Shiro supplies. He smiles as both boy's look at him, hoping charm can get him past how lame he's being. 

The boy behind the counter, Lance, as is confirmed by the crooked nametag pinned to his shirt, rolls his eyes. Keith's expression doesn't change, but those blue eyes are scanning Shiro's face again like he's calculating all of Shiro's weaknesses.

And Shiro is weak as he steps closer and shifts his hand to Keith's back, prompting him to order. 

"Extra large. Black. Shot of espresso."

"I'm not giving you a shot of espresso, Keith."

"Two, then."

The two boys stare at each other in a hard impasse. Lance looks away first, and then both sets of eyes settle back, expectantly, on Shiro.

It takes a slow arch of Keith's eyebrow to kick Shiro's brain back into gear.

"Earl grey. Hot." His lips twitch in a smile that he can’t contain at his own little joke. Neither boy seems impressed. He steps forward to pay and leaves a generous tip in the jar before the other one, Lance, turns to start making the coffee. 

Keith leans back on his elbows on the counter with a slow smirk across his lips. 

He _has_ to know what he's doing, stretching his long legs out like that. Looking at Shiro like that. He has to know what he looks like. What it _does_ to men like Shiro. 

Shiro does his best not to fumble when he slides his wallet back into his pocket. 

Two cups land none-to-gently onto the counter and the Lance boy leans over them to glare at Keith. 

"Keith, can I talk to you for a second?"

"No," Keith says smoothly, taking his cup out from under the boy's hand and walking away. 

Shiro grabs his own and trots along behind, stopping at the little station for sugar and milk before following Keith to a seat at the front window. 

There are many empty tables all around them. Some are big enough for Shiro to stretch out on. There's even a couch along the wall they could take. But no. Keith takes the table farthest into the corner. The table smallest of all available. The one so small Keith's knees have to slot between Shiro's for them to both fit. 

"He a friend of yours?" Shiro asks to cover up the fact that he has no idea what he's doing here. Seriously, what is he doing?

Keith shrugs again and Shiro gets the distinct impression he doesn't answer many questions. 

"More like a roommate." For the first time since they've met, Keith's eyes drop to his own hands. "I crash on his couch sometimes." His hands are wrapped around his coffee cup like they're trying to get warm.

They quiet for a moment while Shiro sips at his tea. And then Keith leans forward, his eyes bright and focused once more.

"How 'bout you?"

"No, I just met him today." 

It's a joke, and Shiro watches as it settles inside Keith and slowly makes him crack a grin. He huffs a little, breathy laugh that thrills along Shiro's spine.

"I meant roommates. Or wives?" He pauses only for a moment, tilting his voice low to add, "Mistresses?"

There's intent in Keith's eyes and in his question and Shiro can feel his cheeks spark with a blush.

"No. No husbands or boyfriends." He can tell by the way Keith's eyebrow ticks, that he caught Shiro's gentle correction. "No mistresses, either."

Keith's leg stretches out, pressing just inside of Shiro's knee.

"Want one?"

Shiro doesn't answer. He doesn't have an answer. So he sips at his tea and waits Keith out. But Keith's better at waiting.

He smiles at Shiro like the silence is an answer and presses his leg to Shiro's again.

"Come on. I'm hungry. You could take me back to Maple and Terraceview and feed me something good." There's a clear double entendre in Keith's shark smile.

And Shiro is so weak. 

"How old are you?" 

Because Shiro might be weak, but he's old enough to know much better than he's been acting. There are some lines you don't cross. Not when you're 35.

"19."

That's an awfully convenient age.

Shiro's thoughts must be broadcast across his face because a moment later Keith slips his wallet out of his back pocket. He leans across the table to hand his ID over, and smiles while Shiro looks it over and does the math. 

Shiro hands the card back and his eyes catch on Keith's again. They stare and they stare.

In the end, Keith just smiles and stands up. He takes Shiro's hand in his and Shiro just follows. 

They're stopped before the door by the teen behind the counter. Only he's no longer behind the counter, he's at their sides, with a hand on Keith's arm stopping him from moving.

"No, _no_ Keith. You're not doing this again," he hisses and tugs on Keith's arm. 

Keith drops Shiro's hand with a quick backwards look, then pushes Lance several feet back so they can hiss at each other in angry, low voices.

"It's just dinner, Lance."

"How many times are you going to do this, huh? Come on, just come back with me. Hunk's making fajitas tonight."

Keith folds his arms across his chest, and though he is the shorter of the two, he stands taller. 

"I don't want your fajitas. And I don't want your crappy couch for the night, ok? It's _fine_. Tell Hunk I'll see him tomorrow."

Keith steps away and grabs for Shiro's hand without giving Shiro a chance to pull away.

"Keith. Keith!" Lance hisses angrily as they step out into the dark and the rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: Apparently I forgot to say this up front, but this is a purely feel-good fic, no angst here. Just boys falling in love. Blueballing each other lol.
> 
> AHHH!!! One feel like a duck, splashing around in all this wet! And when one feels like a duck, one is happy!!
> 
> Sorry, random John Mulaney quote.... I'm just so happy because I'm _finally_ off my hiatus for a while!! And I'm So excited to share this fic with you guys!! 
> 
> This fic is kinda seriously long (like, 57000 words) even though the premise is blue-balling Shiro, I _promise_ there are many sexy times ahead. Also, I'm going to do my best to stay on top of the tags as I update chapters, but if I ever miss anything, please shoot me a comment and let me know! 
> 
> And you can follow me on twitter for updates, Sheithy re-tweets, and the odd horny posting. Or you can follow me on tumblr, where literally all I post is fic/chapter updates. ^-^  
> Twitter: [@WTuesdays](https://twitter.com/WTuesdays)  
> Tumblr: [WatermelonTuesdays](https://watermelontuesdays.tumblr.com/)


	2. Take it Slow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro wines and dines the young spitfire he's brought home.

They hardly make it halfway down the street before Keith is shivering again. Shiro debates wrapping an arm around the boy’s – _young man’s_ – shoulders, Shiro tries to tell himself – and settles for pulling his own jacket off and settling it over Keith’s narrow frame. 

Keith darts a surprised look very briefly, then tucks his fingers around the collar and closes the jacket around himself for warmth. The whole coat billows around the boy, it might even trail the ground he’s so short, but Shiro doesn’t care. 

Shiro’s charcoal grey suit jacket isn’t supposed to get wet from the rain, neither is the white silk shirt currently plastering itself to his chest, but he doesn’t care about that either.

All Shiro cares about is the glimpse of a pleased smile he caught as Keith pulled the coat close and buried his nose into the collar. 

His metal hand settles into Keith’s back as he directs the boy to turn the corner, and it stays there until they step through the double sliding doors of Shiro’s 50 floor high rise. 

“Mr. Shirogane,” the concierge, Coran, greets dutifully. “And… guest?” he says tactfully. His face gives away nothing, but Shiro knows the old fox spots the hand at Keith’s back. He doesn’t miss a thing.

“Mr. Kogane,” Shiro corrects. Immediately, Coran smiles.

“Yes, of course, sir. Have a good evening, sir.”

Keith’s head swivels around to peer back at Coran as Shiro ushers him through the marble-lined lobby and into the elevators.

“He’s typing something,” Keith says. 

His eyes look a bit wide and punch drunk at the display of wealth in the lobby. It’s endearing. And no doubt completely unintentional. Which makes it all the more enchanting. 

“He’s updating the visitor logs,” Shiro explains. 

Keith’s eyes narrow up at him. “In case I steal something?”

That makes Shiro laugh. “Sure. Or in case of fire.” He gives Keith a sidelong glance as they settle in beside each other, waiting for the elevator. “Unless you don’t want the firefighters to come looking for you.”

Keith doesn’t answer, but he meets Shiro’s gaze head on and once again the intensity of those blue eyes knocks Shiro on his ass. 

They take the elevator up and up and up and step out into the hallway. It’s short and squat, lined with the 3 elevator doors, the stairwell doors, and 3 apartment doors, each with identical pin code locks and the letter ‘P’ on the doors. 

Shiro laughs at Keith’s confusion. 

“Fire exits,” he explains with a nod to the other doors.

He keys in his passcode and once again his hand finds itself along Keith’s back as he lets the young man lead the way into the penthouse. 

Keith’s eyes go wide as he takes in Shiro’s sprawling condo.

“You live here?” he asks, skeptical despite everything. “It’s huge!” He kicks off his shoes, slips out of Shiro’s trench coat so it drops to the floor, and slinks down the steps to the living area.

It is indeed huge. It’s far more space than Shiro needs, and there’s a great deal more to the penthouse than just the open concept living space they’re in now. Hell, it’s really the size of two living spaces, with two different sets of furniture circled around two different centre tables. 

Really, the only rooms Shiro uses, besides the bathrooms, are his bedroom and his office. And, he supposes, the kitchen does house his protein shakes, so he technically uses it. 

It’s a waste of space. The only reason he owns it is the wall to wall shatterproof glass that gives a view of the whole city and, on a good night, the night sky. 

He has to admit though, it looks good with Keith standing in the middle of it all. 

“H-hungry?” Shiro asks, kicking himself back into gear. “What would you like?”

Keith prowls the living rooms, alternately siting and bouncing on the various chairs like he’s testing for the most comfortable spot in the place.

“I’m not picky.” He kicks his feet up onto a glass top coffee table and stretches back for a moment, then promptly gets up and slides over to the other set up.

“What would you like?” Shiro asks again, “I’m buying. Pizza? Chinese? Greek? Steak? Lobster? Foie gras?”

The last one makes Keith laugh. He rolls up onto his knees to hang over the back of Shiro’s pristine white couch, looking up at Shiro. 

“I’ve never had caviar.”

It’s a joke. Shiro can tell by the way the light dances in Keith’s eyes. 

Still.

Shiro nods and reaches for his phone. He pins Keith with a look and a crooked smile as he orders. Steak tartare, lobster in garlic butter, lamb shanks, rare filet mignon, an extra serving of caviar, and a dessert called “chocolate sin.” 

Keith watches in something akin to awe as Shiro places his order, his lips quirking up at the sides when Shiro repeats the name of the dessert. 

“It’ll be here in 40 minutes,” he says, returning the phone to its cradle.

Keith’s lips split into a cheeky smile. “Whatever will we do to fill the time?” His eyes draw down to Shiro’s white dress shirt, the one that’s wet and clinging to Shiro’s chest like a second skin, then lock with Shiro’s once more. Keith arches his back and leans so that his chest and neck is on display and his crotch is pressed into the sofa. 

He knows _exactly_ what he’s doing. 

Shiro takes a prowling step forward, his blood spiking at the ideas that fill his mind. That lithe little body is going to feel so small in his hands. So small and so perfect. 

A shiver climbs up Keith’s spine and Shiro pauses. 

It could be from Shiro’s irresistible and incredible sex appeal. It _could_ be a physical manifestation of the young boy’s unquenchable lust for a certain businessman in a wet shirt. _Or_ it could be that this pretty little thing has been cold from the moment Shiro first set eyes on him.

Heated gazes do little against the chill of an autumn rain in a sleeveless Tee.

Shiro moves with less intent as he closes the distance and puts his flesh hand to Keith’s arm. There’s a surprising amount of muscle to the thin arm, and Shiro can’t help the gentle squeeze he gives.

“Why don’t we shower first?”

Keith visibly perks at this. “Together?”

Christ, this kid’s going to be Shiro’s death!

“Oh, uh… I was thinking separately. Warm up. Clean off. You know.” The look Keith gives Shiro as he suggests separate showers is unreadable, and Shiro flounders. “I mean, we can.” There’s certainly no reservations on Shiro’s part. “But we might not make it out in 40 minutes if we do.”

That brings a smile to Keith’s face. He licks his lower lip and runs his teeth over it, making it plump out like a temptation. 

“Ok. I can clean up for you.” Keith winks.

That’s…. That’s not what Shiro meant, but oh! it’s a nice thought. 

Shiro hardly wants to let go of Keith’s arm, but standing as they are on either side of the couch makes it impossible to do anything otherwise. Still, as soon as they’re together and walking down to the guest rooms, Shiro has his hand on Keith’s side, wrapped almost like an embrace. 

Shiro flicks on the bathroom light then brings Keith to one of the guest bedrooms where he piles Keith up with towels and the guest robe. It takes some convincing to get Keith to agree to hand over his wet and dirty clothes through the door, but in the end, Shiro gets his way and he wanders off with an armload of cold, damp clothing. 

Once the clothes are deposited in a cleaning bag and left by the penthouse door, Shiro slips into his own master bathroom and steps under the shower spray.

His thoughts are on that young boy the entire time, and his body spikes hot under the water. To think that little fire pistol is in Shiro’s guest bathroom this very minute. _Cleaning_ himself for Shiro. How long has it been since Shiro’s had a spitfire like Keith in his sheets? Wrapped around him and writhing like a live wire?

Never.

He’s never had someone so young, so confident, so _sexy_ as Keith.

And Christ if he isn’t going to enjoy himself! 

Shiro has plans to lay that sweet little thing out and map out every inch of him with him mouth and then do it all again with his tongue. He’s going to test the bounds of adolescent virility tonight. See how many times such a young, taut body can wring out an orgasm.

It’s pure scientific interest – except for the part where it isn’t. Not at all. 

It’s animal magnetism drawing Shiro to Keith; pure and simple. 

It takes every inch of Shiro’s will power not to give in to his urges and fist himself now. Made even harder by the necessity to thoroughly clean himself. It’s like he’s edging himself when he lathers up and strokes himself clean, making sure to clean beneath his foreskin so there’s no nasty surprises awaiting the young firecracker he brought home. He cleans himself, and he cleans himself, and then he brings his fists to the shower wall and lets the water rinse the suds away because if he gets _any_ more friction he’s going to blow. 

The rest of the shower is completed with tactical efficiency. 

Shiro towels off and dresses in his comfiest exercise pants and his tightest black shirt. They look good against his prematurely grey hair, and they do his chest and ass some great favours. 

Keith is still in the shower when Shiro comes out; and isn’t it funny but Shiro has no idea what to do with himself in his own house! Does he wait in one of the living rooms? Does he go to the kitchen, which overlooks the living rooms? 

He dare not go to the guest rooms and wait for Keith like a creep. But he could go to his office, maybe get a little work done until Keith’s out.

No, that’s too horrible a thought to entertain. Shiro is not working on corporate projections while he waits for dinner with someone like Keith. So, Shiro settles on the white couch and waits.

The food arrives first, heralded by Coran’s jaunty knock. 

Coran bursts through the door the moment Shiro turns the handle, arms loaded with bags of take out. He moves like a hurricane into the kitchen to deposit the parcels on the counter, all the while speaking in a steady stream of “perfect night for some good ol’ take out, Mr. Shirogane,” and “all this food reminds me of when I was the tri-state champion of competitive eating.” Shiro follows Coran in and out of the apartment, glad Keith isn’t here to witness Coran’s boisterous quirkiness. 

He shuffles Coran through the door and then holds the bag of Keith’s clothes after him.

“Can you rush this for me, Coran? I need it clean by morning.”

“Of course, Mr. Shirogane,” Coran says happily, tapping a finger to his nose and winking. 

It’s all Shiro can do to keep from slamming the door shut in embarrassment, but he manages a polite “good night” to Coran and waves him off before shutting the door. 

Shiro has a dinning room tucked away beside the kitchen, but he can't imagine eating there tonight. Not with Keith.

The room is formal. Stiff. It's a place Shiro suffers through company dinner parties. It's a place where tedious men engage in tedious conversation and Shiro pinches his leg to stay alert. Shiro has no desire to take Keith there.

So he grabs plates and cutlery and brings them to the white-topped coffee table. He surveys the feast laid out on the table then heads back into the kitchen for glasses and water. He grabs a bottle of red and two long-stemmed wine glasses on impulse, and he pops the cork to let it breathe while he waits. 

Shiro surveys his work again with a critical eye, then pushes the table away from the couches, making an open space for he and Keith to sit together on the floor. It's fondly reminiscent of his early life in Japan, and Shiro can't help the warm bubble of feeling rising in his chest.

Keith is a complete stranger to him, but somehow Shiro thinks he will approve of the set up. Judging by everything that's happened so far, the boy is not one to follow the rules of polite society.

On a whim, Shiro moves to the wall and dims the lights. It bathes the room in a softer light and makes the large, open space seem smaller. More intimate.

Or maybe that's just Shiro's wishful thinking. Shiro has no idea what's gotten into him, but he forgets to be self-conscious about it when Keith finally steps out into the living room.

He's flushed an attractive pink from the warm shower and wrapped in Shiro's plush bathrobe. His long hair lies in inky wet streaks over his shoulders, standing out stark on the white of the robe. 

He tucks a loose strand behind his ear and pads over to Shiro on bare feet. 

"Hey," Shiro says, feeling like the air's being sucked from the room. "The, uh, food's here."

He folds himself down onto his knees to sit at the 'head' of the coffee table and gestures for Keith to join him at his side. 

Keith's smile is soft, and the sharpness of his gaze seems tempered by the dimmed lights. He pulls a pillow from the couch to sit on, and it's only when he folds those long legs of his off to the side that Shiro remembers he must be naked beneath the robe.

Keith shuffles closer so that his bare knee touches Shiro's, and Shiro burns just from that simple contact. Maybe he should have taken care of himself in the shower?

Shiro clears his throat and refocuses.

"How was your shower?" he asks, pouring water from his wine decanter he's repurposed for the sole reason he wants to continue impressing this beautiful young thing in front of him.

"Took a few minutes to figure out," Keith answers truthfully. "But once I got it going, it was heaven."

"I'm glad." 

Keith looks beautiful in the half-light. Though it's raining, the lights of the city still reflect in through Shiro's massive windows, and Keith sits in their glow like he's in the spotlight. For several long seconds, Shiro just sits and looks, taking in his fill of Keith's rosy cheeks and long lashes.

He rouses himself just before it becomes awkward and reaches for the first container.

"Caviar?" He holds it out to Keith, revealing 6 small crackers topped in dark, pearlescent fish eggs. 

Keith takes the closest one and lifts it up to his nose first. He inspects it with keen interest, turning the cracker in his hand to see it from every angle.

"I just eat it like this?"

"Just like that."

Keith contemplates the food for another moment and then pops the entire thing into his mouth. 

Shiro watches the changes in Keith's expression greedily as the boy examines the flavour, tipping back and forth between distrust and interest as he deliberates. 

"It's weird," he finally decides, "but I like it."

He scoops up another cracker and eats it in one bite, just as before, with little regard to how extremely expensive those little pearls truly are. 

"Aren't you having any?" Keith picks up the next cracker and holds it out for Shiro to take.

A little, self-conscious laugh bubbles out of Shiro. "I don't really like it." He knows it's stupid. He bought two servings of it. Spent hundreds of dollars on these 6 little crackers. All for Keith.

The boy doesn't seem to accept that. He shifts up onto his knees in a fluid motion and rests his hand on Shiro's shoulder. Just as every other time they've touched together, a buzz of static runs up and down Shiro's spine.

Keith leans into Shiro's space. Leans close enough it could almost be called sitting in Shiro's lap. He holds the little round cracker for Shiro, touching it lightly to Shiro's lips.

There's no way to refuse. Shiro doesn't even want to refuse. He opens his mouth obediently and allows Keith to feed him.

Keith's thumb runs lightly across Shiro's lip on the release and it's all Shiro can do to withhold the shiver that runs across his skin at the touch. 

Keith stays close while Shiro finishes the bite, his hand slipping along Shiro's shoulder to curl his fingers behind Shiro's neck. Once Shiro's done, Keith takes another cracker and brings it close. 

Shiro's mouth opens on instinct now, as Keith brings the cracker close. It's close enough that Shiro leans forward, ready to receive, when Keith veers off course and pops the whole thing into his own mouth with a little noise.

The boy laughs at his own joke and sinks back down to his cushion while Shiro's brain is still rebooting. Keith's proximity has made him stupid and it takes him an embarrassing few seconds to catch up and close his still-waiting mouth. 

He grumbles playfully at Keith once he's finally caught up.

"You think you're cute, huh?" Keith doesn't answer, just grins around a full mouth. Shiro narrows his eyes into a faux-glare and pulls the container with the remaining caviar bites from the table before Keith can stop him. "The rest of these are mine."

Keith doesn't pout (though his lower lip is so full it’s almost a permanent pout) but as Shiro starts to feed himself the second-last cracker, Keith leans forward, mouth open and expectant, and the next thing Shiro knows is he's feeding it to the little spitfire beside him. He doesn't even really know how it happens. All he sees is Keith's round little mouth open and then Shiro's easing the cracker between pink lips.

It's fish eggs, for crying out loud! 

Yes, they're expensive - a delicacy in the same way Keith is - but still! Shiro can feel his executive faculties break down every time Keith gets within one foot of his personal space. 

It's terrible. But Shiro loves it.

He feeds Keith the last cracker as well, just because Keith seems to like it so much. This time, Keith hums around the bite, and closes his eyes to savour the flavour.

Shiro's mouth is suddenly _very_ dry. 

He reaches for the water then decides the red wine has breathed enough for him. He pours himself a glass then turns to Keith. 

He's only 19. 

Shiro's hand stalls, but he holds the wine bottle out as a kind of offer.

He's not trying to get the boy drunk. And if he wants some, Shiro won't refuse. But is it wrong to offer?

Keith cuts through Shiro's indecision by moving his wine glass under the lip of the bottle. They spend some time discussing wine tasting. Shiro teaches Keith to swirl his wine around the glass, how to sniff the bouquet, and how to describe the flavours. 

"This one has hints of chocolate and cherry," Shiro explains as he shuffles through the other food containers and starts splitting portions between their two plates.

"I don't taste any of that," Keith admits in a stubborn kind of voice, as if to say Shiro's the one who's wrong. "I just taste wine."

Shiro chuckles. "Me too," he admits. "I had to study for hours to memorize vineyards and vintages to schmooze with the board members."

They both laugh at that as they dig into their meals. 

Conversation flows better under the wine's supervision. Shiro finds himself telling most of his life story, talking about the culture shock of moving from Japan to America as a child, telling Keith the more ridiculous of his old college escapades. Keith, for his part, remains reticent about his past and growing up, but he speaks decisively about what he likes and what he does not. 

They feed each other off their plates, passing lobster and lamb back and forth between them. Keith puts away more than Shiro could have expected, and he gets the sneaking suspicion that Keith's declaration of hunger, back at the cafe, was not just a ploy to get invited to Shiro's house. 

By the time Shiro pulls out the Chocolate Sin, the wine and food has loosened Keith's tongue a bit.

"I got fired," Keith says. His eyes find something fascinating under the table and stick to it. "That's why I've been crashing at Lance's. The guy from before. I got tossed out of one too many places and now no one will hire me."

Shiro pulls back from his inspection of their dessert and gives Keith an assessing look.

For all the boy's confidence and spirit, now he looks deflated. The way his eyes stare down at nothing tells Shiro how ashamed Keith is to admit it.

It's also a display of trust. Keith would not tell this to anyone. Shiro must have passed some test of Keith's.

Shiro clears his throat. "What happened?"

Keith looks up with a sardonic expression, like armour slotting into place. "Why'd they can me, you mean?" Shiro nods. "I disagreed with their customer complaint policy." He says it with all the nonchalance he can muster, giving Shiro a shrug, though his eyes are still averted.

It's a small gesture, but after all of the boy's intense and prolonged eye contact, Shiro can't miss the sign.

"What's their policy?"

The question knocks a sarcastic little laugh out of the boy. "Shut up and take it, and then thank them for their time."

Shiro groans at the thought. Though his customer service days are a thing of the past, he still remembers being at the mercy of an angry customer set on destroying his night.

"That's a bullshit policy," Shiro says emphatically. "I wouldn't follow it either."

Keith tilts a look up at Shiro through his bangs, and it's a critical hit. If Shiro wasn’t hopelessly enamoured before, he sure is once he sees Keith's small, hopeful smile. 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I worked at an ice cream shop in high school and someone once whipped a whole cone at my head." Shiro chuckles at the memory.

Keith's eyebrows arch high into the dark of his bangs, "What'd you do?"

"I filled a large bowl up with soft serve and dumped it over their head."

Keith bursts into giggles. "What!"

"Then I walked out."

"You quit!"

"Eh," Shiro shrugs, "the owner was an asshole anyway."

He chuckles again, but as Keith continues to lose himself to giggles Shiro finds he can't swipe the grin off his face. He likes the sound of Keith's laugh and he likes it even more knowing he caused it.

While Keith grips his side and starts to come down from his laughing fit, Shiro fills a fork with Chocolate Sin, spearing a little mousse, cake, whipped cream, and raspberry into the bite. He holds it out for Keith. The giggles fall away faster with the promise of dessert and Keith quickly opens up to take his bite.

His lips curl into a smile even as the fork is still in his mouth, and he hums and long, low note of pleasure. He eases off the fork slowly and closes his eyes to hum again.

"Good?" Shiro whispers. He didn't mean to whisper, but that's all he could manage, his voice pitched low as he watches the effects of Chocolate Sin run through the young boy.

“Mmmm,” Keith moans with enthusiasm.

The series of noises Keith makes as he eats his first bite are downright filthy. He moans and hums and groans. His plump lips move as he tastes the chocolate. 

He’s so painfully attractive, Shiro doesn’t know what to do with himself. He just watches and _yearns_ until Keith finally comes down from his chocolate high and opens his eyes again. Keith’s eyes are hazy as he looks at the delicacy in Shiro’s hands. 

He takes the fork from Shiro, drawing his fingers along the metal of Shiro’s prosthesis. He loads up another bite and slides his body smoothly along the floor until he’s pressed against Shiro’s side. He feeds Shiro, and Shiro has no idea if it’s the chocolate, the fact that Keith just fed him, Keith’s proximity, or some mix of all three, but he is shook. 

The chocolate is rich and delicious, well worth every sound of delight Keith gave it. But it’s made all the better by the line of warmth along Shiro’s side where Keith fits against him. 

Shiro hears Keith’s hum as the boy takes another bite, and he turns to watch, only this time they’re only inches apart. They’re close enough that, now he’s paying attention, Shiro can feel the faint whisper of Keith’s breath against his cheek. 

Shiro aches with the desire to touch Keith. To pull the little firecracker into his lap and feel him burn. Just a tilt of his head and their lips would slot together. 

Keith would taste of Chocolate Sin, and isn’t that just how the boy _should _taste?__

__Shiro’s so focused on the heat of Keith’s body (and the heat of his own thoughts) that he doesn’t notice Keith’s feeding him another bite until a drop of whipped cream touches his lip._ _

__Keith feeds him the bite, then swipes the cream away on his finger. He holds Shiro’s hot gaze as he puts his finger to his mouth and sucks it clean._ _

__God! but Shiro is _panting_. His heart is hammering, and they haven’t even done anything yet._ _

__“God, you’re somethin’, you know that?” Shiro asks, breathlessly, as Keith pulls the container from Shiro’s hand and puts it back on the table. He takes the fork and licks it clean, drawing his cute, pink tongue along the tines so Shiro can watch it move._ _

__Shiro doesn’t breathe through any of it._ _

__He doesn’t blink either._ _

__Keith leans away to put the fork down safely in one of the containers and the void along Shiro’s side feels unnatural and cool._ _

__Shiro doesn’t think. He just reaches out to wrap his hand around Keith’s side and draw him back into Shiro’s space. Keith moves easy under Shiro’s touch, so Shiro pulls him closer._ _

__Close enough that Shiro’s whole arm is wrapped around Keith’s small frame. Close enough that Keith’s hand rests lightly over Shiro’s pec, and their bodies are a warm line from navel to chest._ _

__Keith tilts his head in Shiro’s direction and that’s all Shiro needs to start closing the distance between them._ _

__At the very last second, already practically too late because Shiro’s lips are just _lightly_ grazing Keith’s, Shiro remembers that he is a gentleman._ _

__“Can I kiss you?” he whispers, with all the hope of a prayer, into Keith’s lips._ _

__He can feel the pull of Keith’s smile._ _

__Keith doesn’t answer._ _

__Well, he does. But not with words._ _

__He answers with deeds._ _

__And he tastes just like chocolate._ _

__Only this chocolate is sweeter and warmer than the dessert. And 1000 times more intoxicating that the wine._ _

__Keith does not hold back, not even for a moment. There’s no gradual easing into the kiss; one moment they’re separated by a breath and then next they’re crashing together and Keith is prying Shiro’s mouth open with those sweet lips of his. Keith’s tongue is light and deft, and it flicks into Shiro’s mouth with dexterity, pulling out a moan as it retreats back to Keith’s mouth. Shiro pursues. He pursues and he takes and he devours until they’re both flushed and panting._ _

__Then Shiro pulls back to assess his handiwork._ _

__Keith’s lips are red and plumper than ever. They shine with Shiro’s spit and that makes Shiro fiercely proud. His eyes are wide and dark, the irises eaten by attraction. His cheeks are pink and warm under Shiro’s hand as he brushes some of the hair out of Keith’s face._ _

__They only have a moment to catch their breaths before Keith is leaning in again. He shifts himself so that he’s practically sitting on Shiro’s folded knees and slides his lips against Shiro’s._ _

__This time, Keith grips Shiro’s shoulders and holds on like he’s scared Shiro’s going to drop him. He tilts himself so he’s bearing down on Shiro – bearing down everywhere – and kisses Shiro filthy. They make wet smacking noises and hungry groans as their temperatures skyrocket._ _

__Shiro’s hands are bunched into the fabric of Keith’s robe. He holds low on Keith’s back, but his hands are wide enough to span from hip to hip. Shiro longs to open his hands, take Keith by the hips properly, and guide the boy into a slow rock, but he doesn’t. He lets Keith take the reins. Lets himself be riled up the way Keith wants him._ _

__They’re so hot against each other, they’re burning when Keith pulls back again._ _

__“Should we take this to the bedroom?” Shiro asks, thinking mainly of the weight on his knees against the cold tile floor._ _

__Keith’s smile turns low and seductive._ _

__“Time to pay you back?” It has the lilt of a rhetorical question, and Keith doesn’t wait for the answer. He shifts and lifts himself to his feet, holding his robe to keep it from billowing open as he moves. “Aren’t you coming?”_ _

__Shiro hasn’t moved._ _

__He hasn’t blinked._ _

__He stares off into the middle ground for a long moment before he comes round again and pins Keith with a look._ _

__“What do you mean ‘pay me back’?” There’s a churning in Shiro’s gut that he does _not_ like. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought this young firecracker home. “You don’t owe me, Keith.”_ _

__Keith snorts at that. “Sure, I do.”_ _

__They stare at each other for a long moment._ _

__“You just shilled out like, a grand on take out? And let me use your shower and stay the night in your…” Keith turns to look around the room, raising his arm to indicate the whole area, “this. Now it’s my turn to put up.” Keith smiles again, “But don’t worry. I’m worth it.”_ _

__“Keith, I know you’re worth it. But you don’t have to sleep with me to be worth it.”_ _

__Keith looks down at Shiro like he’s lost his mind._ _

__Shiro breathes a heavy sigh and picks himself up to sit on the couch. He reaches out a hand and draws Keith to him._ _

__At first, Keith tries to straddle Shiro’s legs, but Shiro gives him a firm look and directs the boy to sit at his side. Shiro tucks the boy into his side, under his arm, and turns so they can look at each other._ _

__"Keith," Shiro starts, his voice heavy. Still, as those blue eyes turn on him, looking scolded and confused, Shiro can't help himself. He draws his fingertips over the apple of Keith's cheek, softening his expression. This boy is beautiful. There's nothing about him that's not beautiful. And Shiro can't say he's not tempted to throw the boy over his shoulder and carry him into the bedroom. But there are more important priorities at the moment. "Were you going to sleep with me just because I bought you food?"_ _

__Keith shifts in Shiro's arms, his guards going up._ _

__"It's not a big deal. I gave you a smoke, you bought me a coffee. You bought me dinner, I give you head. That's how this works."_ _

__"This?" Shiro asks. There's something cold and heavy in his gut and pressing down over his chest now, but he can't say for sure whether it's his own bruised ego that he was just Keith's meal ticket, or if it's hurt on Keith's behalf for thinking it's necessary. That their time together is just a transaction._ _

__"Life," Keith says, as if that clarifies everything. "Guys take me in for a bit, we have some fun, and then I go back to Hunk's couch. That's how guys are."_ _

__Shiro bypasses the fact he doesn't know who Hunk is._ _

__"That's not how I am," Shiro coos softly. His fingers are still on Keith's cheek, and the strokes the soft skin._ _

__Keith's brow pinches. "I'm not a freeloader."_ _

__It startles a chuckle out of Shiro. "I never said you were. But anything I do for you, I do it freely, Keith. You don't _owe_ me." He tips his head down, expression serious, "And I don't sleep with men who don't want me."_ _

__Keith swallows thickly at that. His hands reach up to fiddle with Shiro's shirt where it's stretched tight across Shiro's chest. "I don't not want you..." he says softly._ _

__"But you wanted food and a warm place to stay more," Shiro finishes for him._ _

__Keith lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug. It's not exactly a confirmation, but it's definitely not a denial._ _

__Shiro sighs. Neither of them says anything for a long time. They sit, Shiro arm still wrapped around Keith's small shoulders, Keith still plucking nervously at Shiro's shirt._ _

__Slowly, something clicks into place, and Shiro breathes a long, heavy exhale. He pulls Keith gently in and presses his lips to the boy's forehead._ _

__"Come on. Time for bed, I think."_ _

__They extract themselves carefully from the couch and Shiro leads Keith back to the guest room with a hand on his back._ _

__They stop at the door and Keith's smile turns flirty again, his hands lifting to paw over Shiro's pecs. Patiently, Shiro pulls them away wraps his arms around Keith's small body, holding him close._ _

__"I work early in the morning, but you're welcome to stay here as long as you like. Order anything you like to eat, Coran will see to it that it gets paid for." He kisses Keith's hair. It smells like the strawberry shampoo Shiro keeps in the guest bathroom, but also like Keith. It's very becoming. "I'll see you after work, if you're still here."_ _

__Shiro takes a deep breath of strawberry and Keith, then steps back._ _

__"Good night, Keith."_ _

__Keith's head tilts quizzically. "Good night, Shiro."_ _

__And then Shiro leaves before he can change his mind._ _

__It's past midnight when Shiro hits the bed, heart over full with too many disparate emotions to sort through. He pulls a pillow from the other side of the bed and folds it into his arms, holding it like it can hug him back. He falls asleep like that, thinking of blue eyes._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouf! This was such a long and terrible week! Just bad news coming in left and right. I was very tempted to post this chapter early, but I wanted to save it for myself so I can start my weekend right. 
> 
> I hope you like it! My friend said you can really tell how much I love food in this chapter, ha ha ha! 
> 
> A hint for next chapter, coming in 2 weeks, is Shiro spoils Keith a bit. ^-^ (though, that could easily apply to most chapters lol)
> 
> As ever, I live off your comments and kudos! Honestly, my favourite part of every day is checking my morning email for all the kudos from the day before. It always makes me smile, though comments definitely make my day!
> 
> You can follow me on twitter or tumblr. These days I've been posting a lot of short fic ideas and pictures of my cat on twitter, just to try and keep my mood up.   
> Twitter: [@WTuesdays](https://twitter.com/WTuesdays)  
> Tumblr: [WatermelonTuesdays](https://watermelontuesdays.tumblr.com/)


	3. Show me off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith asks to be spoiled and Shiro is ready to deliver.

Work is long and grueling, and extra hellish due to Shiro's constant distraction. He has board meetings and financial debriefs, massive piles of paperwork. He delegates as much as possible - more than usual, even, because he has the mental image of Keith, spread out on the guest bed, surrounded by pillows and plush blankets, his black hair spread out around him like a halo and it won't leave him be. 

Shiro hasn't even seen it for himself. As much as he wanted to peek in on the sleeping beauty this morning, he felt it would be too creepy to intrude on his guest and so left with just a passing, longing glance at the guest room door. 

As much as possible, Shiro tries not to remember the night previous. He doesn't need to dwell on the memory of Keith's lips around the dessert fork, or the warmth of that young body pressed up against Shiro's. He doesn't need to remember the hunger of their kisses, or the weight of Keith in his lap. 

Just like he doesn't need the stress of wondering whether Keith will be there when he returns. 

He left a note pinned to Keith's garment bag with the pin code to Shiro's penthouse, and left Keith's full name with Coran with specific instructions that he order as much of anything he likes, and that he come and go as he please. 

Shiro doesn't dare to admit, even to himself, how much he longs for Keith to be there when he returns. Still, he leaves work on time for the first time in months, making his secretary gawk as Shiro heads out the door at 4 o'clock on the dot.

Shiro hotfoots it home, and he isn't too proud to admit to peering in at the cafe where they met as he passes. Just checking whether there's a raven-hair spitfire in their midst or not. 

There's not. 

Shiro runs the figures in his head. If Keith's not at the cafe, it increases the chances that he's still curled up in a housecoat in Shiro's penthouse. But it's equally likely that he took off, and if he's not at the cafe where they met, the chances of Shiro ever meeting him again plummet. 

Sure, Shiro has resources. He could find Keith. Easily. But he won't look. 

If Keith's not home when Shiro gets back, Shiro will take it for the sign it is. That he was a meal and a bed and nothing more.

The penthouse is dim and quiet when Shiro arrives. His heart plummets, his whole body drops with the weight of disappointment. His head and arms feel heavy. His feet drag.

It's stupid to be this put out by a boy he met not even 24 hours ago. It's beyond foolish for a man of 35 - a CEO at a top 10 Fortune 500 company, no less - to feel so empty at the loss of a 19-year-old hooligan who apparently makes a habit of sleeping around in exchange for food.

But that boy was sex on two legs, with a fiery spirit. He was intriguing. He was beautiful. He was unexpected.

Shiro drops his jacket to the back of the couch, a black one today since his trench coat needed cleaning. He turns to his room to go curl up under the covers and lick his wounds when a sound catches his attention.

It's a low sound of voices and music. Not loud enough to be easily apparent, but in the quiet penthouse it carries.

Shiro follows the sound down the hall past the guest rooms and into the entertainment centre. He should have known. A young thing like Keith would naturally gravitate to the giant screen and surround sound system. 

As he gets closer, Shiro hears the sounds of animated gunshots and canned screams. Keith is playing a video game.

The game pauses as Shiro opens the door and cracks light into the dark room. Keith is stretched out, half on the couch, half on the coffee table. He's in the cleaned clothes from yesterday. Empty take out containers, bags of chips, and cans of pop are strewn about the couch and table.

Keith looks up at Shiro like he's wary. Like he doesn't know what Shiro will do about him still being there, him using the game system, or him making a mess. 

For his part, Shiro cracks a big smile and breathes a sigh of relief. 

"You're still here."

Keith shrugs. "You have a big tv. And I have nowhere else to be.”

Shiro’s smile doesn’t waver. He sinks down to sit awkwardly over the armrest of the sofa. 

“What are you playing?” he asks, dropping his hand to curl his fingers into Keith’s dark locks and comb through his hair. The strands are soft and silken in his touch.

Keith shrugs and shifts his head so Shiro’s fingers can dig in and massage at his scalp.

“Some zombie game.”

Shiro hums his acknowledgement. His fingers keep working through Keith’s hair, digging circles along the base of Keith’s skull. 

Keith lets himself enjoy it for a minute and then un-pauses the game and returns to his tactical assault on a zombie horde. 

Shiro watches Keith decimate the electronic zombies and make his way to the safehouse for ammo, healing, and saving. 

“Did you want supper?” Shiro asks, soft and sweet. He’s just as happy to stay here all night, petting Keith’s hair and watching him butcher zombies.

Keith perks up at the question, lifting up onto his elbows and looking up at Shiro with interest.

“What were you thinking?” 

Shiro isn’t thinking anything except how gorgeous Keith is, but he doesn’t say that. His fingers move to play with Keith’s bangs, moving them out of the way so he can clearly see those blue eyes. 

“Whatever you like. We could go out; we can order in again. Italian, Japanese, French, Mexican. Whatever you want.”

“I want you to spoil me.”

Good god! Something squeezes tight, low in Shiro’s gut. 

“Anything.” Shiro’s voice is breathy and low, and it’s because all the air was punched out of his lungs. He wants to spoil this boy. He does.

More than anything. 

There’s a French bistro on the other side of town. It’s the best rated, most exclusive restaurant in town at the moment. People wait for months to get a spot, but Shiro has connections. He has connections he _never_ uses, but he’ll use for Keith.

God, he’s got it so bad.

He should be reminding himself he’s known this boy less than 24 hours still, but he doesn’t. Time doesn’t matter. What matters is that Keith asked to be spoiled, and Shiro will deliver.

Shiro fits his hand at the crook of Keith’s neck and pulls the boy up to press his lips to Keith’s brow. “Anything,” he repeats, then he smiles. “Let’s go.”

He’s on his phone with Pidge, his personal assistant, before he’s out of the room.

“Pidge, I need reservations at Versailles for 8 o’clock.”

“ _Versailles_?” Pidge asks, incredulous. “The restaurant?”

“No, the French palace,” Shiro quips. “And move tomorrow’s meeting from 9 to 10.”

“What the…. Do you have a _date?!_ ” 

Shiro doesn’t care for the implications in her tone. Though she was loud enough for Keith to overhear as he follows Shiro down the hallway, and it makes him laugh a tinkling little noise that smooths over Shiro’s ire. 

“I date,” Shiro insists. 

That earns him a double snort; one from Keith and one from Pidge. 

Shiro pouts. “I do,” he mumbles to Keith, who just smiles and takes Shiro’s metal hand in his own, holding it tight. 

“Uhh, it’s saying here they’re booked solid until next April,” Pidge says doubtfully.

“Not for me,” Shiro says in a low voice like a growl. Keith squeezes his hand in response to the sound and Shiro almost falters. He’s looking at Shiro with hunger in his eyes. “Call Lotor and remind him what I did for him in Italy and tell him I want the loft.”

“What happened in Italy?” The words come in surround sound from his phone and from his side. 

He should never let Keith and Pidge meet; it will only end in chaos.

“It’s redacted. Bye, Pidge.” 

He doesn’t wait for her chirping goodbye. He’s walking Keith past the kitchen and he’s overcome with the urge to stop everything and press the boy down onto the countertop – steal the breath from his lungs. With his tongue.

One way or the other. 

He can feel Keith watching him, and when Keith suddenly stops moving, Shiro is sure Keith knows exactly what he’s thinking. Hell, Shiro feels like his every thought has been written across his forehead from the moment he first spotted the boy.

“If the reservations for 8, what will we do till then?” Keith asks. He tugs on Shiro’s arm until Shiro is turned around. It would only take a step to press Keith into the counter. 

Keith tugs again and Shiro has his wish.

Keith’s back is tight against the counter and his hips are under Shiro’s hands, feeling firm and juicy. His face is turned up to Shiro’s, his arms wrapping around Shiro’s neck, pulling Shiro down into his space. 

Though Shiro has Keith pinned in, Keith is the one who looks like a cat who’s caught a canary. 

Keith pulls his bottom lip into his mouth and runs his teeth over it; it comes out looking full and a teasing shade of pink. Shiro groans, he can’t help it, and leans lower. He wants that lip. He wants everything.

His hands squeeze over Keith’s hips. His perfect little body. Strong and lithe, but with a, exquisite curve just for Shiro’s hands to fit into place.

“I’m taking you shopping.” The words come out sultry and low. 

Keith picks up onto his toes and Shiro can feel the shift of muscles in his hands. It wouldn’t take anything to lift and pull Keith into him. Less than a pound of pressure and they could grind. Maybe Shiro could sink his teeth into Keith’s lip. Take it for himself.

“Shopping?” Keith sounds incredulous. Still, his eyes are dark with desire and his lips are ripe for the taking. “What are you buying me?”

Shiro can’t help himself. He really can’t.

He leans down and gives Keith a quick kiss. It’s hardly a kiss really. It’s just an excuse to run his teeth over that bottom lip. 

“Got to get you something nice to wear,” Shiro says against Keith’s lips. It makes Keith’s breath hitch and oh! Shiro likes that so much. He draws his lips across Keith’s cheek and into his hair to whisper in his ear, “Gotta show you off.” His hands shift so he’s gripping more ass than hip. “Want to make everyone jealous they don’t have you on their arm. Would you like that?”

Keith nods. Enthusiastically.

Shiro doesn’t think he can speak, and _that_ is gratifying. Making Keith speechless is… that’s an accomplishment.

Better than being ranked World’s Sexiest Billionaire the last 4 years in a row.

“Take me,” Keith gasps.

Shiro growls in response, his teeth closing around Keith’s ear, his hands pulling that warm body in _tight_.

Keith clings to Shiro, and there’s a momentary sting of nails in Shiro’s shoulder that shoots heat straight to Shiro’s groin. 

“No, take me shopping,” Keith laughs. 

He laughs even harder when Shiro freezes around him. 

It takes three deep breaths in Keith’s air, full of his scent and the faded remnants of strawberry, for Shiro to calm enough to step back. 

Pulling his hands away from Keith’s ass is a shame, but somehow Shiro manages, and he runs his hands through his hair to give them something to do.

Keith watches him cool down with a funny expression, still leaning against the counter, still looking so kissable. 

“You’re going to be bad for my blood pressure,” Shiro grumbles good-naturedly. 

Keith just laughs again. “Poor thing,” he teases, so Shiro gives him a dramatic pout. It’s ruined within 3 seconds when Shiro can’t help but crack a smile. 

“Let me get changed and we can go.”

Keith follows Shiro into his bedroom and whistles. 

“Swanky.” 

He settles on Shiro’s massive bed, leaning back on the charcoal-grey blankets like he belongs there. Shiro can’t look at him. Like an eclipse, he knows looking directly at Keith will leave him blind and stumbling. Still his mind produces many helpful images of Keith stretching luxuriously in Shiro’s bedsheets.

Shiro pulls out a casual suit, one in a light grey that is comfortable to move in, and he can’t resist pulling out one of his tighter dress shirts, remembering the way Keith’s eyes danced over his chest when his shirt was soaked through the night before. 

“Are you just going to watch me?” he asks, a little self-conscious, when he turns to see Keith locked on him with avid interest.

Keith winks. “Give us a show.”

Shiro laughs and shakes his head. He _doesn’t_ strip for Keith… but if he maybe stretches it out a bit… maybe exaggerates pulling off his tie… maybe stretches out of his shirt more than necessary… well, he can’t be blamed for that.

Keith’s eyes are hawkish from the bed. He watches every movement Shiro makes, focused like a predator. It should be unnerving, but it’s not. Shiro is flattered in a way compliments could never manage. He feels seen and he feels sexy.

It’s a trip to have the sexiest man Shiro’s ever seen watching him like he’s food. And from Shiro’s own bed no less.

Shiro struts over to the bed as he buttons up his cuffs, feeling sexy and confident under Keith’s gaze. This kid is like crack for his ego, and he loves it.

“Did you like that?” he asks, pressing his fists into the bed so that he leans over Keith. 

Keith bites over his lip again, and Shiro is starting to think he’s doing it on purpose just to rile Shiro up. If he is, it’s working. 

“I did.” 

“Now we need to find something for you.” Shiro cocks an eyebrow, “Unless you want to stay here in my bed instead?” 

Keith bites down on his finger like he’s thinking about it. Like he’s a fucking pin-up straight off the calendar. Like he’s trying to make Shiro bust just by looking so ungodly delicious. 

And Shiro is weak enough, it might just work.

“What do you want, Keith?”

“I want you to show me off.”

Shiro’s grin is toothy as he takes Keith by the wrist and pulls him to his feet. “Then we’d better get a wiggle on.” He lets Keith lead the way out, and takes the opportunity to smack that high, tight ass. The squeak Keith makes in response is playful, and he swats at Shiro’s hand as he passes through the doorway. 

They take the grey Aston Martin to the shopping district and the entire time Keith begs to be allowed to drive. He goes so far as to bat his eyes and drop a hand high on Shiro’s thigh. It’s a move that nearly kills them both, but Shiro rather enjoys it. In fact, likes it enough that he lets Keith off without a scolding for endangering their lives. Besides, Shiro’s a great driver.

“Another day, Baby,” Shiro promises. 

He doesn’t know what tastes sweeter, the promise or the pet name. Maybe it’s the satisfied noise Keith makes, and the teasing squeeze over Shiro’s thigh before Keith shifts back into his seat.

“The only problem with a car like this is there’s no back seat to fuck in,” Keith says wistfully as they pull into a space. 

It takes Shiro several seconds to form a response because his mouth has gone dry with the possibilities; but when he finally gets one out it’s smooth as silk. “Just need to be a bit more creative with it.”

The small of Keith’s back is too tempting, so Shiro settles his hand there once again and steers Keith down the street and into a Gucci. They head through the sprawling and brightly lit store to the men’s section and all the way to the back where they keep the suits. 

Keith’s fingers draw along the clothes as they move, testing fabrics, plucking at sleeves to look idly as they pass. Once they reach the suits, they branch apart to look for something Keith will shine in. Shiro keeps an eye on Keith in his peripherals, checking what Keith looks at, trying to get an idea of the boy’s taste. He also just likes looking. He can’t stop himself from looking. Keith drops a hip as he inspects a flamboyant flowered suit, and Shiro decides in that moment that he wants Keith in something tight. Something that highlights those mile-long legs and cherry ass. 

Keith runs his fingers along the sleeve of a dark purple suit jacket then pulls it out to look at it. He flips the tag casually, glancing at the price, and drops the sleeve like it’s hot. 

A second later, Keith is trotting over to Shiro’s side and fitting his hands around Shiro’s arm.

“Are you sure about this?” he whispers, darting a glance around at the designer clothes. “That jacket costs two month’s rent.”

“It’s cheap, I know,” Shiro says seriously. He’s showing off, and he’s gratified by the incredulous look Keith gives him, “but there’s no time for something custom.” He reaches out to tweak a strand of hair then tuck it behind Keith’s ear. “Get whatever you like. I can’t show you off if you’re not properly spoiled.”

Keith’s eyes dart between Shiro’s, trying to suss him out. “And how do I repay you?”

This again. 

Shiro smiles kindly, his fingers still lingering at Keith’s ears. “By keeping me company at dinner.”

“And then?”

“And then – however you like.” Keith makes a noise of protest, but stops as Shiro continues, “I’m doing this because I want to, Keith. I want to spoil you, and I want to see what you look like in these clothes. I meant what I said yesterday, you owe me nothing.” 

“And if I want to thank you?” Keith presses his hips to Shiro’s side, letting his body do the talking. But his eyes still search Shiro’s, like they’re looking for some untruth or inconsistency.

Shiro takes a deep breath and it tastes of Keith. His voice is a low growl as he whispers, “then you can thank me all night long.”

They’re in public. 

Shiro knows that. Just as he knows there are cameras and cashiers watching them. None of that matters when Keith tips his head up, giving Shiro a perfect opening. A delicious opportunity. Shiro doesn’t hesitate to lower himself to meet Keith, the taste of Keith’s breath teasing his tongue. 

“And if I don’t want to?”

“Then I’ll just have to make do with enjoying your company.”

Keith’s lips pull to the side as he considers Shiro’s words. The pout is exaggerated, and oh, they’re tempting like that. 

A flash of something like lightning crosses Keith’s eyes a moment later, and his whole expression changes. His eyes turn to fire, and his lips straighten out into something strong and stubborn; he looks at Shiro like Shiro’s just offered him a personal challenge. 

“Ok,” is all Keith says. He moves even closer, so they’re chest to chest and Shiro is beginning to burn. 

Keith tips up and kisses Shiro full on the mouth. The kiss is heated in a way no public kiss should be, with tongue and a quick flash of teeth. It tilts the world on its axis and just as Shiro’s starting to wrap his head around this new reality, it’s gone. 

Keith dances out of Shiro’s grasp with a puckish giggle, leaving Shiro completely unbalanced. 

Shiro lurches into the open space before him. He has to reach out to the nearest display table to steady himself. He smacks his lips once, just to assure himself that kiss really just happened, and touches them with cool metal fingers.

Keith is already back into the lines of jackets, riffling through the various designs and patterns, and pulling them off the racks. Shiro takes a moment to get a hold of himself, then shoots a cursory glance around the store. Sure enough, there’s an attendant waiting (and watching) just off to the side. He summons her with the crook of a finger and tells her to start a fitting room with anything Keith likes. 

Hours later and they’ve been through Gucci, Givenchy, and Dolce & Gabbana. They have a whole new wardrobe for Keith. They have a black suit, a purple suit, and a white one patterned with blood-red flowers. They have lounge clothes, sleep clothes, boxers, socks, shirts, pants, jeans – everything. 

Keith wears the red flower suit out of the last store. It’s not tailored, but it fits like it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm happy to share this chapter. I hope it doesn't end too abruptly, it kind of goes hand-in-hand with the next one, but putting them as one is too long so... it is what it is.
> 
> Shiro continues to be horny AF! Being is public does not stop that, ha ha ha!
> 
> Also, I had to google so much rich shit for this fic. This chapter especially, I had to look up suits and check if brands have them, and what they cost. Also, may I just say, Gucci's North American line for men's suits are hideous. Don't look it up. Keith isn't in any of those. Imagine what good suits look like and put Keith in those. 
> 
> Is "get a wiggle on" a normal saying for you guys? My mom says it all the time and I thought it was normal, but my friend read this chapter and was like "what's that from? Is that something Shiro said?" 
> 
> As always, don't forget to send love and praise through the kudos button and comments. Comments literally fuel me. They are my addiction and they make me feel so good about myself! And please feed my habit!!
> 
> I've been loving everyone's comments so far! It's nice to see you all love our horny boy, Shiro, as much as I do! <3


	4. Romance is in the air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro takes Keith on a nice date at a restaurant. And later, Keith starts testing Shiro's resolve

They go straight to the restaurant and leave the car with the valet. Shiro moves to escort Keith with a gentle touch, but Keith sticks his heels into the pavement and turns to Shiro.

His pretty eyes dart about, checking the valet attendants, restaurant guests, and passersby. He takes Shiro by the cuff of his shirt and turns them so that Shiro's back is to everyone, with Keith left, hidden, in the shadow of Shiro's broad shoulders.

Cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and refusing to meet Shiro's curious gaze, Keith pulls something out of his pocket. He fiddles nervously with whatever it is for a moment and then reaches up and presses it into the breast pocket of Shiro's suit jacket.

Shiro gets a good look at it as Keith smooths it out, and he realizes with a start that it's a folded pocket square, white with red flowers to match Keith's suit. Shiro had noticed the square when they were still in the shop, paying for Keith's new wardrobe; he had assumed the square was for Keith and had decided not to point out that it would be near invisible in the pocket of a suit with the same design.

There'd been no reason to believe Keith had picked it up for Shiro.

"There," Keith says quietly - very quietly. "Now we match."

He risks a glance up to Shiro's eyes. His expression is possessive, and the sight of it makes Shiro's breath catch in his throat. 

Shiro curls his hand over Keith's, pressing the boy's touch into his chest, just over his heart. They hold steady for several seconds before Shiro pulls Keith's hand up for a quick kiss and spins them around. 

They walk into the restaurant hand in hand.

There's a crowd waiting at the door, dressed in finery like a fashion show in reverse. They part like waves when Shiro gives his name to the hostess who leads them back into the restaurant and up the stairs into the loft.

The loft is a private dining room, usually lined with tables for events, but today, it is empty but for a single table for two. It's a long room, surrounding by glass and elevated above the rest of the restaurant. Planters of flowers line the room, bright bursts of yellow, purple, and pink amongst the green foliage. The flowers hide those seated in the restaurant below and the street view out the window, leaving only the lush city park across the road.

It's a beautiful room, open and airy as if they're dining al fresco, yet warm and protected from the elements and the cool autumn air. 

Late as it is, the sky is a deep purple and navy, and the park is lit with softly glowing lights strung between the trees. Shiro draws Keith past the table and to the large windows. He sets Keith there, back to the flowers and the park lights, and steps back to admire the view. 

Keith is a rose among the weeds. He's beautiful against the fading light of the day, with the bright glow of the restaurant lighting up his face.

"Beautiful," Shiro says. He meant to say it just to himself, but when Keith's cheeks burn with the compliment Shiro doesn't regret his candor. "You are," he insists, stepping close.

He wraps an arm around Keith and tilts the boy's chin up, getting a good look at those blue eyes against the darkening sky. He can't stop touching, can't stop wanting. Keith is ethereal, and Shiro is soaking up his presence - taking anything and everything Keith will give him.

And somehow, impossibly, Keith is looking at Shiro much the same.

"Kiss me," Keith whispers, his eyes wavering between Shiro's.

Shiro's descent to Keith's lips is slow. It's deliberate. And the kiss is all the more sweeter for it.

Keith's lips mould against his own, soft and giving. He grips at the collar of Shiro's shirt, whether it's to hold Shiro in place or hold himself steady, Shiro can't say. 

All Shiro can really say is that Keith feels divine in his arms. Keith’s slight, warm body is sturdy beneath Shiro's hand. He tilts his head under Shiro's gentle touch, opening further, letting Shiro take the lead for once. 

Standing like this, Keith feels so small yet so strong. He's more real than anything else in Shiro's universe right now; and yet, somehow, this is all a dream. It's too good to be real.

Keith is too good to be real.

They are interrupted by the waitress, and Keith buries himself into Shiro's chest to hide his embarrassment. 

There's a strange dichotomy in Keith, Shiro is noticing. The boy has no problem teasing Shiro in public. He'll press close, bite his lip, and drive Shiro wild without batting an eye to who might be around or what they might think. But there's a secret shy side to him. The side that gives Shiro matching pocket squares and kisses Shiro sweetly. 

It's fascinating. 

Shiro holds Keith while the waitress fills their cups with water and leaves them with menus set beside their plates. Then Shiro draws Keith to his seat and pushes him in, the attention making Keith blush again.

They pass the evening happy in each other’s company.

The conversation is a bit stilted at first, there’s many topics Keith seems uninterested in talking about, and only so many details Shiro can get into about his CEO position before moving into confidential territory. But once they settle on cars, bikes, planes – really, anything with a motor that can go fast – he has Keith’s undivided attention. 

When Shiro tells Keith about having a private flying licence, and a jet all of his own, Keith is so excited he nearly puts his elbow in his food. And when Shiro promises to take Keith for a trip, just the two of them, Keith’s foot finds its way under the hem of Shiro’s pants. 

Once they find their rhythm, the time flies by. Before Shiro knows it, it’s past midnight, all four courses of their meals have been demolished, and the waitress is hovering by the door waiting to serve the bill. He waves her in and drops several hundred on the tip alone. 

There’s precious few patrons left as they leave, but they all watch as Shiro leads his young paramour out with a possessive hand on Keith’s hip. Keith leans into it, placing his hand in a gentle cup over Shiro’s ass as they pass through the door. Shiro is loathe to step away, or even drop his hold on Keith, but the valet won’t wait forever. 

The sharp young man who gives Shiro back his keys steps forward to open the door, but that Shiro cannot abide. Only _he_ gets to open the door for Keith. 

He slaps a generous tip into the man’s hand and send him away with a sharp look. For a few seconds, Shiro entertains the thought that he was being subtle, but when he pulls the door open for Keith, he is met with laughing blue eyes. 

“Hush,” Shiro murmurs as Keith slips past, into the car. Keith’s tinkling laugh follows him around to his own door and skitters down his spine as he revs the engine and takes off into the night.

Back at home, they drop all of Keith’s clothes in a pile on the floor then Shiro slumps to the nearest couch. 

Idly, Shiro notes that this might be the most he’s ever sat on these couches since he bought them, and it’s still only the second day with Keith. At least they’re past the 24-hour mark now.

“How’d you like being spoiled, baby?” Shiro asks, reaching for Keith’s hand as he moves around the sofa.

Keith turns at Shiro’s touch and stands between Shiro’s legs. 

Shiro gulps back a growing excitement. Nothing’s even begun to happen yet, but still, they’re alone and Keith is so close and between his legs. He can’t help but let his mind wander. 

“I loved it, Daddy.” Keith’s voice is a tease, but still… Shiro’s heart stops in his chest.

“Buh-! Da-daddy? Wha? How-who…. uhh, wha-what?” Shiro says, intelligently. 

His brain is further turned to mush by the wicked grin that spreads across Keith’s lips. In a smooth, folding motion, Keith sinks into Shiro’s lap, straddling him on the couch. Keith’s legs are warm and hard where they pin Shiro in, his weight is heavy in all the right places.

Keith’s hands curl over Shiro’s chest, pawing lightly like a kitten, only with far more purpose behind the touch.

Shiro’s pulse races. His temperature skyrockets.

Keith leans in. Then he leans in more. Leans in close enough that his hair tickles Shiro’s face, and those sinful lips caress the lobe of Shiro’s ear.

“You like that? Daddy?”

Shiro groans. His hands find their way under Keith’s jacket to fist at the shirt underneath. 

He wants to drag Keith into his lap. Wants to pull him down and grind them out until they’re blind with desire. He wants to kiss Keith breathless across every inch of his soft, smooth skin.

Keith’s hips shift and it’s not an accident. It might be an act of god, but it’s no accident. Shiro grips ever tighter against Keith’s shirt. He’s so close to ripping it, and its brand new – but Shiro can always buy another. He’ll buy Keith 50 if it means he can rip each and every one.

“Well?”  
Clever fingers draw up from Shiro’s chest, rubbing over his shoulders, then sliding into Shiro’s hair. They rub across Shiro’s scalp, nudging him this way and that, then they fist into Shiro’s short grey hairs and pull his head sharply back.

Shiro gasps. His head is forced back, his neck exposed, his face an open book for Keith’s hungry eyes.

"I do," Shiro pants, his cheeks warm with a mixture of desire and embarrassment. 

"You want to be my daddy?" Keith shifts again, swinging his hips in a slow circular motion.

"I do," Shiro says again. He wants it more than he can quantify. "Want to take care of you, baby. Spoil you."

Keith laughs at that, light and teasing. "You didn't spoil me enough today?"

Shiro shakes his head. "Never."

"Such a good daddy." Keith moves like a snake, swaying into Shiro and closing the gap with a searing kiss. His fingers are still caught in Shiro's hair, keeping Shiro pinned back. Keith has all the control, and Shiro relinquishes easily. 

They pull apart with a wet smack.

"And you're sure you don't want anything in return?" Another slow, deliberate circle of his hips has Shiro's eyes rolling back momentarily. 

It takes Shiro a second to process the question - Keith's body is like a piston over his own and it's an effective distraction. Finally, Shiro shakes his head again.

"I only want what you're willing to give."

Whatever this is, it is _not_ a transaction. Shiro won't let it become one. He has enough of that at the office. Isn't it enough to just want? Isn't Keith in his lap already more than Shiro could have hoped?

Besides, prostitution is not one of Shiro's kinks. Spoiling Keith: now there's a kink!

"Yeah?" Keith pants into a kiss, grinding down hot and heavy over Shiro. 

Shiro replies his "yeah," directly into Keith's mouth. His legs strain, moving his body with Keith's. His hands are still fisted in Keith's shirt and strain the fabric till it's ready to bust. 

Keith pulls back with a smack. His eyes look bright and wild compared to Shiro's lust-filled haze. He inspects Shiro's face for a moment then dives down for another kiss, just as wet and longing as the last.

Then Shiro blinks and he's alone on the couch. Keith has jumped out of his lap and stepped three paces back, leaving Shiro feeling cold and untethered - lost in his lust.

He can see Keith's flushed cheeks, and the telltale bulge in Keith's pants. Shiro knows he's not the only one affected by their embrace.

But Keith pulled away of his own volition, and Shiro is not going to pursue. Not after all he's said about leaving it up to Keith. 

Keith's dark, heavy gaze does not waver from Shiro's. Neither moves, they both just pant through their arousal, staring each other down. It's a challenge for Shiro.

No. Not a challenge. 

It's a test.

Shiro stays in place, arms at his side, open for Keith to return if he so pleases.

“Good night, Shiro,” Keith whispers. He steps back to leave, but his eyes are still sharp on Shiro. Still testing.

“Good night, Keith.”

Shiro watches as Keith slowly turns. He picks up a bag of clothes and carts it off to his room.

Once Shiro’s left alone, he groans into his own hands and rubs them over his face a few times.

That was so hot! It was hot and intense and perfect. The sudden drop after such a build up is still coiling and uncoiling in Shiro’s stomach, full of pent up, directionless desire. 

Heaving a sigh, Shiro picks himself up and heads for his own room. There, he swings a few punches into the air and does a couple reps of push ups, just to purge some of the excess energy out of his body.

Shiro meant what he said, and he wouldn’t take a word of it back. He gives freely. 

It could lead to his being taken advantage of, but really, even if Keith were the type to do something like that (and Shiro genuinely does not believe he is) then what’s the worst that could happen? He has money to spare. He has everything anyone could ever want, and so far, it’s done precious little to make him happy. 

Keith is new. Keith is vibrant. He’s delectable, and precocious, and he’s starting to trust Shiro. 

From where Shiro’s standing, there are no downsides to this. 

Except, maybe, for some light blue-balling. But Shiro can handle it. 

Patience yields focus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Light" blueballing. Sure, Shiro. Sure. We're only on chapter 4 of 17 though so... good luck!
> 
> And we've finally hit the Daddy Kink part of our program. That's going to be amping up from hereon out. I will be editing some of them out, because 100% when I'm horny and writing the steamy scenes, I add 'daddy' to every sentence. It's an ungodly amount. And then I have to go through it all with a comb and take out all the extraneous ones so I don't accidentally overdo it. No one wants a kink beaten to death (unless the beating to death part is the actual kink lol).
> 
> You should all shower me in love because my writing has been shit again lately and I want to have more stuff ready to post when this fic is all done. Comments and kudos feed a writer's soul.
> 
> Also, you can follow me on the twitter or the tumblr for fic updates etc.  
> Twitter: [@WTuesdays](https://twitter.com/WTuesdays)  
> Tumblr: [WatermelonTuesdays](https://watermelontuesdays.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thank you all for reading! I love you all! <3<3<3


	5. That's what friends are for

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro meets Keith's friends.

It’s a good thing Shiro pushed his morning meeting, because he’s running late. Not incredibly late, but even a few minutes will be noticeable to Pidge, especially after years of dedication and punctuality.

Shiro flies through his morning workout routine, and heads to the kitchen to chug his favourite protein shake when he hears it.

It’s Keith, his voice echoing into the living room, and carrying across the penthouse to the kitchen.

“I haven’t been murdered,” Keith says, sounding exasperated. “I told you, I’m fine. No, I haven’t joined a cult – Lance! Put Hunk on the phone.” 

Shiro can’t help but be interested. He takes his shake and walks down the hall towards the guest room, where Keith is pacing back and forth from the bedroom to the hallway, grumbling at the phone.

“Hunk!” Keith starts, but he’s abruptly cut off by a deep voice. He spins and catches Shiro’s eye.

‘You ok?’ Shiro mouths, and Keith just nods and waves him off.

“N–” Keith is cut off again. “But… no…” he sighs deeply, “I know I haven’t been back to the apartment. I – yes… I know… I’m sorry I worried you guys.” Keith kicks lightly at the door jamb and wiggles his toe against the crown moulding. “I’m really ok, though. He’s not a serial killer, I swear.” He flashes Shiro a tight-lipped smile at that.

Shiro gestures to the phone, offering to field the call, but Keith shakes his head. 

“He’s not creepy. He’s…” Keith’s eyes scan Shiro a few times. “He’s not creepy, ok? He’s nice, and I’m just going to stay with him for a bit.” There’s a hint of a question in Keith’s eyes as he says it, and Shiro nods happily. Keith can stay as long as he likes.

Keith resumes his pacing as he listens to the lecture he’s getting from the other end.

“Lance said what?” Keith growls under his breath. “Your boyfriend is an idiot, Hunk. He’s not old. He’s…” Keith’s eyes flicker to Shiro again, and he turns, hiding his face from view as he continues quietly, “a silver fox, ok? And he’s not a serial killer.” Then, even quieter, “he’s taking care of me.”

Shiro drains the last of his shake and checks his watch. He’s getting seriously late now. 

He waves a hand to get Keith’s attention, points at his watch, himself, and his bedroom. It’s not fully intelligible, but Keith seems to get the message and he nods. 

Shiro rushes off for the fastest shower of his life. He’s half-dressed, still buttoning up his shirt, when Keith knocks lightly at the open door and slides into the room.

Just as the night before, Shiro can’t help but feel a little gurgle of happiness in his gut seeing Keith in his space.

“How’d it go?” he asks.

Keith sighs. “I calmed them down. They’re uh… they worry about me. Hunk has this whole mother-hen thing going, and Lance is an idiot, so…”

“Hey,” Shiro says mildly, “I think it’s nice they care. And I wasn’t really thinking, keeping you here the last two nights. Of course they were worried.”

“Yeah, well, I’m going to see them today. That’ll calm them down.” Keith hesitates and twists his fingers. It’s the first show of nerves Shiro’s seen on the boy. “But, uh… Should I come back after, or…?” He leaves the question open-ended, like he doesn’t think he’d be allowed back in should he leave.

“Yes!” Shiro says, taking a quick step forward before he remembers himself. “Yes,” he said again, calmer this time, “I left your name with Coran, and you have the combination for the door. You can come and go as you please.” Shiro takes another step, closing the gap between them so that he can run his hands along Keith’s bare arms. “Stay as long as you like,” he murmurs.

There’s that blush again. The light dusting of pink across Keith’s cheeks that says he’s embarrassed by Shiro’s sweetness.

Keith reaches out a hand and plucks at Shiro’s shirt for a moment, then he lifts his other hand and does up the last few buttons, dressing Shiro.

“They, uh… they want to meet you. If – if I’m going to keep staying here.”

“Stay,” Shiro agrees. He offers Keith his wrist and the boy dutifully clasps the button at Shiro’s cuff. “I’d love to meet them. Make my case for joining my cult,” Shiro winks.

Keith’s blush grows brighter, and he snorts out an ugly laugh. “Dork.”

Shiro hums his agreement.

“I’ll get off work as early as I can. I can pick you up at their place? Maybe…” now it’s Shiro’s turn to stumble over his words, “maybe get some of your stuff to bring here?”

Keith nods and focuses on Shiro’s other cuff. 

“I can text you to let you know when I’m on my way.”

Keith nods again. 

Then Shiro remembers just how late he is, and he starts to pull away, but Keith’s gentle grip over Shiro’s hand stops him in his tracks.

“You need my number,” Keith says lightly. 

“Right!” Shiro fumbles for his phone, unlocks it, and hands it over. He moves away to grab his jacket and tie, rushing to get them on as he hears Keith typing away, and then the soft ‘ping’ of a message sent. 

He gives Keith a quick peck on the cheek as he takes his phone back and starts for the door. 

Keith waves him off by the elevators, and the sight of him in pajamas, face still lightly blushed, seeing Shiro off, fills Shiro with the energy needed to get through the day. His face feels stretched from smiling so much lately, but his grin doesn’t dim a single watt as he heads out into the crisp fall air. 

He’s nearly halfway to work when he hears the alert on his phone.

**Baby (8:56 am):**  
**Have a good day at work, daddy ;)**

Shiro’s heart thumps at the name Keith put into his phone. His grin grows even wider. Not even a two-hour meeting with Slav can ruin his mood today. 

~*~*~*~*~

Shiro gives Pidge the afternoon off early so that she’s not around to see when he leaves the office at three. 

It’s fine. He’s got some work in his briefcase, and he’s got his home office and a secure VPN on his computer. He can finish the last of this week’s work from home over the weekend between dinner with Keith and spoiling the boy rotten. Besides, it’s only an hour!

Shiro rushes home and changes at lightning speed into a pair of casual, light-wash jeans and a tight black t-shirt that accentuates the thickness of his biceps. Because Shiro knows what he’s about, and he might be modest when it calls for it, but he’s neither blind nor ignorant. He knows exactly what he looks like and what that can do to a guy. 

Besides, Keith brings his A-game just by virtue of existing, so the least Shiro can do is man up and match Keith’s natural sex appeal.

Shiro runs his prosthetic hand through his hair a few times to casually muss it, and then he’s out the door.

He plugs the address Keith sent him earlier in the day, after a minute long pause to admire the selfie Keith also sent of him sitting back on a rickety couch with the caption “ **miss your bed already ;)**.”

It doesn’t take very long for Shiro to reach the apartment building. He texts to let Keith know he’s arrived, and he expects Keith simply to buzz him in, but after a short wait, he finds the young man careening out of the stairwell door and throwing himself into the door to let Shiro in.

If Shiro thought that Keith had been bringing his A-game before in those fluffy robes and that rose-petal suit, it has _nothing_ on Keith now. The shirt is red, and other than that Shiro doesn’t register much about it because _Keith is in booty shorts!_

Alert! Alert!

Full executive function meltdown!

Keith is in booty shorts. 

“Hey,” Shiro wheezes in response to whatever greeting Keith gave him. The way Keith is leaning to push the door open makes his ass pop. And those legs! 

God those legs!

Shiro can’t help himself. 35 years and he has zero control over his own damn self.

He steps through the door and crowds into Keith’s space. He lays a proprietary hand over the pocket of Keith’s shorts, letting the tips of his fingers just lightly touch along the bare skin of Keith’s endless legs. 

Keith’s hands find Shiro’s pecs, though his eyes are scanning Shiro’s biceps with open interest.

“Hi daddy.”

Fuck!

Shiro growls and pushes Keith backwards until they’re pressed against the stairwell door. 

“Can I kiss you?” Shiro begs. He’s a man dying of thirst, and Keith is the only drink for miles.

Keith shakes his head and bites his lips and Shiro absolutely groans. 

“Ok, baby.”

Despite Shiro’s best, gentlemanly wishes, it takes him a long time to disengage from his hold. Keith doesn’t seem to mind – if anything, he seems to be revelling in the hesitation, soaking in Shiro’s attention. 

“Your friends?” Shiro asks stiffly when he finally steps back and takes a few deep breaths. His pants are feeling significantly tight, and he’s hoping they have a lot of stairs to walk before he has to look presentable for Keith’s friends. 

“Second floor.”

“Shit. We might need to take a second before we go up.”

“Why?” Keith asks, all faux innocence as he throws a cheeky grin over his shoulder and slips through the door and up the stairs. 

Shiro follows. He does a frankly admirable job of not tripping over his own feet on the stairs, as Keith’s tight, perfect, juicy ass bounces up each step in front of him. When they hit the first landing, Keith looks down at Shiro with mischief in his eyes.

“Do you like my shorts? I wore them just for you.”

This boy is going to kill him.

“I do,” Shiro says earnestly. Maybe too earnestly.

At what point does his constant thirst for this boy become creepy? When does he go from silver fox to lecher?

Shiro ruminates on his position as elderly gentleman caller all the way to Lance and Hunk’s door. Keith leads the way inside.

The apartment is exactly what Shiro expected three 19-year-olds to live in. It’s small, dark, and cluttered. 

Shiro follows Keith into a cramped hallway and down a few paces to an overflowing living room. It shows signs of an attempt to tidy. There's a garbage bag to the side full of pop cans and chip bags, half-folded blankets, and semi-neat stacks of clothes laid around the room that Shiro thinks must belong to Keith. 

Lance sits on the couch Keith featured in his selfie. He's got a game controller in his hand, but all his attention is focused on Shiro. 

He doesn't look impressed.

"Hi," Shiro says awkwardly, raising a hand in a half-hearted wave that Lance just grunts at. 

"Is that him?" a voice calls from an opening to the left. "Is he here?"

"Yes, Hunk," Keith calls. 

Keith nods for Shiro to keep following and heads through the opening to the small kitchen where a big man is tossing a bowl of chicken wings in dry rub. He's wearing a pink lacy apron and a crooked chef's heart that's embroidered with a set of lips just above his forehead. 

"This is Shiro." Keith gestures to Shiro, who is leaning into the small space and doing his best not to pay too much attention to the clutter or the grime. Keith's friend, Hunk, is clearly in the middle of cooking, and who is Shiro to judge the mess one incurs while cooking?

"Nice to meet you," Shiro says, reaching out his hand as Keith introduces Hunk. 

Hunk just lifts a hand that's turned red from seasoning wings as excuse for not shaking Shiro’s and continues tossing the wings.

"You have good timing," Hunk says conversationally, turning to the stove where he has several pots and pans on the go. "I'm about to throw these wings down and they'll be ready in about 20 minutes."

The offer of food surprises Shiro, but he accepts it happily.

"Did you want anything to drink?" Keith asks quietly at his side.

"We've got beer if you're uh... legal..?" Hunk says. He throws a sheepish look over his shoulder as he says it, almost-but-not-quite wincing at Shiro's silver-grey hair. 

"I'm legal," Shiro laughs, "but I'm driving."

"That's good. Smart! Keith's legal too. I mean, not for drinking but like.... for other stuff..." 

Hunk is still turned away, but Shiro can see the heat radiating off his face from embarrassment. 

Keith smacks a hand to his forehead, then wraps his lithe fingers around Shiro's wrist and turns him away.

"Cool, thanks for that, Hunk. We'll be out here."

Keith pulls Shiro back into the living room and aims him away from the couch and into an old recliner. Shiro takes the hint and sits while Keith perches on the arm of the chair. 

It's nice. Domestic. Shiro likes it.

"You're not going to introduce me?" Lance asks with a pout.

“You’ve met,” Keith shrugs. 

“I’m Shiro,” Shiro says, shifting in the chair to reach out his hand, but Lance just looks at it skeptically and picks up his phone.

“Shiro what? That’s hardly a full name.”

Oh. Shiro’s about to be googled. 

“Takashi Shirogane.” He looks at Keith, “I go by Shiro.”

Keith makes a frustrated noise and slaps the phone out of Lance’s hand. “Leave it alone, Lance.”

“How do we know who this guy really is? What if he’s some rich mafia type who’s out there preying on young men and selling them into slavery?”

Shiro laughs at the accusation but Keith practically growls. “He’s not some mafia boss, idiot. Besides, if he were, that’s not going to show on google!”

Lance makes an aggravated ‘psssshh’ noise and picks up his phone. Keith looks about ready to slap it out of his hand again, but Shiro reaches in with a hand around Keith’s waist and pulls him back.

“It’s ok, Keith. My life’s not a secret. He can google me if that makes him feel safer.”

Besides, the first article after Shiro’s Wikipedia page is about his charity work and his recent billion-dollar donation to the Australian wildfires. That’s not anything Shiro’s ashamed of. 

“Pfft, _I’m_ safe. It’s this loser I’m worried about.”

Keith growls again, and Shiro tugs the boy down into his lap before he does something else to Lance’s phone. Keith moves easily with Shiro’s pull and settles in Shiro’s lap with Shiro’s metal arm around his back and his flesh hand over Keith’s knee.

A fine, pink blush dusts Keith’s cheeks as he looks up at Shiro, and Shiro smiles down at him. 

“I have nothing to hide. Let him look.” Shiro casts a quick glance over at Lance, who’s already typing away at his phone. He smiles again and leans to whisper into Keith’s ear, “watch his face as he reads.”

Keith turns to watch Lance, but Shiro doesn’t take his own advice. The curve of Keith’s ear is too tempting. The smell off his hair, which Shiro’s nose is now buried in, is sweet and intoxicating. It wouldn’t take any energy at all to set his teeth around Keith’s ear lobe and gently gnaw it. Maybe he could pull Keith in closer, tighter. The weight of Keith on his lap is comforting, but if they shifted it just a bit it could be so much more. 

Shiro’s thoughts must broadcast themselves to Keith, because the boy tilts his head and nuzzles, soft and slow, against Shiro’s cheek. He pulls back just a little, and Shiro follows suit, and then they’re both looking at each other, eyes dark, lips parted and ready. 

The metal of Shiro’s prosthetic hand tightens just-so over Keith’s waist, and Keith leans with the pressure. 

The boy’s bare skin is under Shiro’s real hand, the long line of his legs in those tiny little shorts on full display in Shiro’s peripherals. His hand moves. It’s scarcely an inch, but it’s enough because suddenly everything is too warm, and the entire universe is pulling into Keith’s gravity. 

They’ve completely forgotten about Lance, and his reaction to seeing Shiro’s net worth.

That is – they forget up until he shouts at them “What the fuck! Get off each other! Not in front of my salad!”

Keith’s eye roll is dramatic and makes Shiro want to giggle like a schoolchild. 

“You’re not even eating salad, Lance.”

“Still, don’t be gross.”

“We’re not being gross.” 

As if to illustrate the point, Keith shifts so his weight falls off Shiro’s knee and onto the thin edge of sofa beside him. The movement pushes Shiro away just a little, but it’s enough to give them both some breathing room. 

Shiro’s hand is still on Keith’s knee, and he drags it down to Keith’s calve, which – well it’s not exactly a help, but at least it doesn’t make Shiro burn any hotter so… he’ll take that as a win.

“Unbelievable. You’ve brought a bajillionaire into our apartment and all you can do is make sex eyes at him. You’re a piece of work, Keith.”

Something dark passes over Keith’s eyes at the accusation. Something that looks too much like hurt for Shiro’s comfort. He’s at a loss what to do, but then Keith’s eyes narrow and he opens his mouth, ready to reign some Armageddon down on his friend and Shiro is at an even bigger loss.

Salvation comes from the kitchen, where a sweet “La-ance, com’ere a second,” calls out and cuts through some of the tension.

Lance heads into the kitchen and speaks in hushed voices with his boyfriend. Shiro can’t hear what they’re saying, but the tone suggests he’s being scolded. 

Meanwhile, Keith looks seconds away from a full-on pout. 

Shiro rubs a soothing circle into Keith’s back and nods to get his attention. “Hey, you ok?” he asks in a low voice only Keith can hear.

Keith sucks on his lip for a second, mulling over the question – it’s a far sight closer to a pout now.

“Lance just, ugh – He’s so stupid sometimes. He shouldn’t be googling you like you’re some Ted Bundy or something.”

Shiro chuckles at the comparison. “He can google me all he likes. You can too, you know. Actually, you probably should.”

Keith’s cheeks turn very pink and his gaze drops down to the collar of Shiro’s shirt. “I did. After you went to work the first day. I, uh… got your name off the mail in your office.”

Shiro smiles. “That’s good.”

“You’re not mad?” Keith braves a glance back to Shiro’s eyes.

Shiro shakes his head. “I gave you free reign of my apartment, so I expected some amount of snooping. So, you know I am a ‘bajillionnaire’?” Keith nods. “And you know about my messy divorce?” Keith nods again, his gaze dropping sheepishly. Shiro’s voice turns to a whisper. “And you know about my accident?” He'd have to dig deep to find out about that; Shiro has spent a lot of time and money burying the story. Covering it in an avalanche of awards, charitable donations, and GQ interviews.

Keith’s fingers twist anxiously in his lap. He nods.

“Then I have no secrets,” Shiro says, kindly. He dips his head and gives Keith a soft peck on the cheek. 

“You…” Keith starts and stops. “So. Do you – uh, do you still want me to bring my stuff over?” 

He asks it like he’s expecting Shiro to say no. That he’s expecting Shiro to toss him on his ass and storm out of the apartment. 

Shiro pulls Keith in for a tight hug. “Of course I do, baby. So long as you still want to come.”

Keith melts into the embrace, tucking himself under Shiro’s chin so that his hair tickles against Shiro’s lips when he nods. 

They stay like that for a long while, breathing slowly together, their hearts finding a sync of rhythm against each other. 

When Lance returns to the living room, it’s with a bowl of salad that he begrudgingly sets down on the coffee table.

“Here. A salad.”

Keith rolls his eyes, but he pulls himself up from Shiro’s lap and moves to the couch beside Lance. They elbow each other a few times, not looking at each other. Then Lance says he’s sorry and Keith says he’s sorry, and they both pick up game controllers and start razzing each other about who’s going to kill the other the most.

Shiro sits back and watches them play, glancing over every once in a while, to watch Keith’s look of intense concentration. The boy is so cute it hurts Shiro’s chest. And his friendship with Lance pricks a small hole in Shiro. It’s been so long since Shiro’s had a friend like that. One who can call him on his bullshit and bicker with him over video games. 

It’s enough to make Shiro pull his phone out of his pocket and send a quick message to Allura. He pauses, then sends a similar one to Matt. 

Once upon a time, before all their jobs became so important it’s all they now think about, Shiro had had a lot of friends. Being here with Keith makes Shiro want that again.

And Shiro is the type who gets what he wants.

Not long after, Hunk arrives with chicken wings and garlic bread. It’s a simple meal, but delicious. The chicken wings are just the right side of spicy.

The four men make quick work of the food, and Shiro notices that he and Hunk eat the bulk of the salad. They play video games into the night, and Shiro is proud to say he kicks their asses at some 64-era Smash Bros. 

Despite the early antagonism from Lance, the evening goes smoothly. Keith’s friends accept his presence easily and include him in their joking and their games. 

Once Shiro starts winning, and specifically, once he starts beating Keith to the curb in round after round of Smash Bros, Lance comes around to Team Shiro. He seems to decide that Shiro is worth idolization, and he hangs off Shiro’s every word for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> This was almost a very short chapter and then the next one would be long, but then I realized it meant a short chapter where nothing happens and a long chapter where 2 things happen. So here's a long chapter where 1 thing happens and next chapter will be short with 1 thing happening. Buuut! Next chapter things get a little spicy again. I think the spice gets a bit more consistent from hereon out too. 
> 
> Thank you guys so much for the comments you've been leaving!! They really make my day! I love that people are enjoying this fic and Shiro's struggles lol. Poor guy, this chapter he hardly even gets to touch Keith, and Keith is looking like a _snacc_!!
> 
> And you can follow me for updates, if you're so inclined.  
> Twitter: [@WTuesdays](https://twitter.com/WTuesdays)  
> Tumblr: [WatermelonTuesdays](https://watermelontuesdays.tumblr.com/)


	6. 2 Fast 2 Amorous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro and Keith take a little joy ride.

When it’s finally time to leave, Shiro and Keith gather up all of Keith’s possessions into a few small bags. Shiro makes a mental note to take Keith shopping again, maybe even get Keith his own credit card. Is that too much? For only knowing each other a few short days, it must be too much.

Still…. Shiro wants to give it to Keith. Wants to do anything for Keith.

Hunk invites Shiro to come back anytime, a sentiment that is enthusiastically seconded by Lance as he leans out the door and waves them down the hall. 

“I think Lance is going to try and take you from me,” Keith grumbles as he lowers the trunk on Shiro’s Maserati. 

“Aww,” Shiro teases, pulling Keith into a hug by the beltloop. “I’d like to see him try.”

Keith looks up at Shiro through his lashes, just a hint of a pout on his plump bottom lip. 

“Are you sulking because of Lance, or because I beat you at those games?”

Blue eyes roll at the suggestion. “You won because you cheated.”

“I won because I’m the superior gamer,” Shiro laughs. Keith starts to turn away, but Shiro pulls him back. “But I can make it up to you, baby.”

Keith’s eyes light in anticipation. “What’ve you got for me, daddy?”

Christ, Shiro’s never going to get used to that. He has to swallow back the low, aroused grumble that threatens to roll out of his chest. 

Shiro distracts himself by pulling his keys out of his pocket. He dangles them in front of Keith and watches as the boy’s eyes zero in on the keys, hungry for them. His whole expression lights up with excitement, his lips stretch into a smile with too much teeth. 

“Daddy!” It sounds breathless and delighted and it sucker punches Shiro right in the gut. 

The keys are snatched out of Shiro’s grasp in an instant and Keith presses obscenely close for a second before he’s dancing away, laughing as he opens the driver’s door and slides in. The boy’s already adjusting the mirrors when Shiro slips into the passenger seat.

Keith revs the engine once, just because he can, and he turns to Shiro with a wicked grin before they peel out of the apartment parking lot. 

Shiro navigates them out of the city and onto a quiet stretch of highway. It’s very near one of his company’s more secret testing facilities, but Keith doesn’t need to know that. What Keith does need to know is that police are very rarely in this area, and so long as Keith doesn’t kill them, he can go as fast as he likes.

The offer is no sooner said than Keith is gunning it. He speeds about 10 mph faster than Shiro is entirely comfortable with, but he is sure on the wheel, and takes the corners like an ace. Shiro relaxes into his seat, knowing he’s in good hands with Keith in the driver’s seat, the boy’s a natural! A speed demon, but a natural.

After a long while, Keith slows enough to pull a screeching 180 turn and then they head back the way they came, flying over the asphalt. Except, when the exit back into the city comes into view, Keith pulls them to the side of the road and throws the car into park.

He’s flying over the gear shift and into Shiro’s lap a moment later, his mouth hot, his fingers digging into Shiro’s flesh like a wild animal. It’s all Shiro can do to keep up. 

They’re in a terrible confined space, but that just means they’re pressed closer together. Keith grinds down on Shiro’s lap, and the boy’s already hard. He’s hard enough that Shiro doesn’t think this is a new development. He thinks Keith has been driving hard for at least a few minutes and it _kills_ Shiro that he didn’t think to look. Didn’t think to check.

“Wanna touch you,” Shiro murmurs awkwardly around Keith’s lips. The boy doesn’t give him a second’s rest to pull away or catch his breath. He’s operating at the same speed he drove Shiro’s car, and Shiro can do nothing but try to keep up.

“Do it,” Keith snaps and then he sucks Shiro’s bottom lip into his mouth and bites.

Shiro’s hand slip around from Keith’s waist to his front. He digs the heel of his hand to the hardness in Keith’s tiny little shorts. They’re so small, and they’re rough in Shiro’s hand. 

He massages his hand over Keith’s hardness, rocking it with the motion of Keith’s hips. 

Keith groans, loud and luscious. He breaks their kiss so he can shut his eyes and moan at the feeling of Shiro’s hand on him. He bucks his hips against Shiro’s hold a few short times and then – wonder of wonders! – he moans, long and low, he tenses and jerks his body, and Shiro feels wetness soak through to the heel of his hand. 

“Fuck!” Keith curses, sounding angry with himself.

But Shiro’s brain has gone offline. 

Did he just..? Did that..? 

A rush of adrenaline spikes into Shiro’s blood. He feels like a teenager again, necking in his parent’s car outside the winter formal. 

Shiro hasn’t been responsible for another person’s orgasm in… well, in far too long. And to get Keith off so quickly… … Wow!

“Fuck. Shit. Sorry,” Keith says, and he starts to pull away.

“Wait!” Shiro grapples for Keith’s arms to keep him in place. “Keith, baby. Don’t be sorry.” Shiro takes Keith by the chin and tilts him to meet Shiro’s eyes. “Did driving my car make you that horny, baby?” Shiro whispers.

Keith makes a small, whining noise and nods his head, still looking ashamed.

Shiro uses his grip on Keith’s chin to pull him into another searing kiss. 

“God, you’re so hot!” Shiro pants into Keith’s cheek. 

“Yeah?” There’s a faint hopefulness in Keith’s voice.

“Yes,” Shiro says sincerely. He nuzzles against Keith’s cheek, seeking out Keith’s ear to whisper hot and low, “I want you to feel good, Keith. And I love knowing I made you feel good enough to burst. Got your cute little shorts all dirty, didn’t we?”

Keith might have gotten off, but Shiro has not. He hasn’t in days, actually. Maybe he should have, but he hasn’t. He has the feeling Keith doesn’t want him taking care of it himself – not while Keith’s still testing him.

Though this right here doesn’t feel like a test. This feels like Keith getting carried away. And fuck, that’s even better! 

“You look really good when you come in my lap.”

Keith shuts Shiro up with another filthy kiss, but he pulls away shortly after.

“Come on, daddy. It’s passed your bedtime.” He slips out the door this time and walks back around to the driver’s side. He drives sensibly on the way home, keeping within the speed limit at all times, and Shiro is fairly certain it’s because he doesn’t want to get stopped with a cum stain on his shorts.

Shiro grins the entire ride home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keith came early!!!!! ^o^// I hope you all found it as hot as Shiro did. Poor Keef just got too riled up! But don't worry, next chapter he's going to have a point to prove 😈😈 heh heh heh!
> 
> This chapter is really short, I know, I'm sorry. But it fit better on it's own instead of lumping it in with anything else. 
> 
> Also, you might notice my chapter count changed. I was reading through and re-organized a little bit to make it read better. But it will stand at 18 chapters. Shouldn't change again. ^-^
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and commenting and giving me kudos! It really feeds my soul <3 I love you guys so much and I love seeing you all react to Keith's shenanigans! <3<3<3
> 
> You can follow me on twitter or tumblr, depending on how much you want to hear from lil ol' me! (Twitter = a normal amount, Tumblr = practically nothing).  
> Twitter: [@WTuesdays](https://twitter.com/WTuesdays)  
> Tumblr: [WatermelonTuesdays](https://watermelontuesdays.tumblr.com/)


	7. Just Watch Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith proves a point and gives Shiro a show.

Back at home, Shiro helps carry Keith’s belongings to his room. He’s piling in some of Keith’s shirts, acting on auto-pilot, when that hyper-awareness of Keith kicks in and tells him to turn and look for the boy.

Keith is in the corner of the room, back to Shiro, slipping out of his shorts. The shorts and his jockstrap slide off with a shake of his hips, and for a moment Shiro gets an eyeful of a perfect, bouncing, beautiful ass before he remembers he’s a gentleman and turns back to filling the drawer. 

It’s not like Keith doesn’t know what he’s doing. He knows Shiro is here. He _knows_ the sparks that fly between them whenever they’re in the same space. 

When Keith comes up to Shiro’s side, he’s wearing nothing but that fluffy white robe from his first night.

“Thank you, daddy,” Keith says, placing a hand over Shiro’s arm and leaning close.

The robe is opened enough for Shiro to see a great deal of the boy’s chest. If Keith turned just an inch, Shiro might catch a glimpse of a pink, pert nipple. Or maybe it’s a dusky brown colour. Shiro has yet to find out.

Shiro puts the last of Keith’s shirts away a little more woodenly than he means to, but his head is perpetually circling the gutter these days, and at this hour of the night it starts to affect his fine motor skills, apparently.

“You’re welcome, baby.”

“You were so good today. With my friends. With the car. With…” Keith lets the suggestive raise of his eyebrows complete the last thought. Shiro gulps. “What should I give you for being so good?”

Shiro’s mouth is dry. He blinks and he’s got his arms around Keith again, leaning forward as Keith tips himself back, his wrappingx fitting securely behind Shiro’s head. 

“Whatever you want to give me.”

Shiro knows it’s the right answer – it’s the true answer – but still, he feels some relief when Keith smiles.

Keith steps backwards, pulling Shiro along behind like a lost puppy. They cross the room like this, step by step, until Keith is backed against his bed. Still he leans back, farther and farther, until he’s lying in the white blankets and pulling Shiro on top of him. Shiro’s knee slots between Keith’s legs and he’s acutely aware that Keith is naked beneath his robe, that the heated skin warming Shiro through his jeans is all Keith.

“What if I asked you to suck me off?” Keith asks it like it’s a simple, easy thing.

“I’d do it.”

“What if I asked you to fuck me?”

“I’d do it.”

Keith grins and bites a finger like he’s thinking. “What if I ask you to eat my ass?”

“Gladly.” They’re so close their breath tickles each other’s lips as they speak. But their eyes are caught on each other; Shiro is once again ensnared by Keith’s blue eyes. Once again dominated, though by all appearances he has Keith trapped beneath him. 

“What if I want to fuck you raw?”

Shiro groans. “Yes. Anything, Keith. Everything for you.”

“Kiss me.”

It’s Shiro’s favourite request – command? – so far. 

He complies readily. Keith’s mouth is hot, wet, and ready for him. Keith’s hands press on Shiro’s shoulders and Shiro folds. Their bodies slot together so perfectly it makes Shiro lightheaded. His mouth moves on instinct, kissing Keith senseless, while his skin thrums with the knowledge of that tight little body against his own.

Shiro curses his own folly for wearing jeans. They look good, but at what cost? 

Someone moves – Shiro can’t for the life of him guess which one it is – and then they’re writhing. Keith’s hips are a delicious push and pull, and Shiro meets each push with one of his own. He shifts so that the buckle of his pants doesn’t press too hard against Keith. 

They stay just like that, rocking against each other, their mouths connected in a battle Shiro doesn’t want to win. Keith’s hands begin to traverse Shiro’s body, digging under his shirt, dragging nails along his skin, mapping out Shiro’s curves and angles. 

They’re both hard again. Shiro’s been hard from the moment Keith pulled him down, but Keith is slow to swell against Shiro’s stomach. Keith’s robe is open, and Shiro’s shirt is lifted, and for a few, blissful seconds Shiro has skin against skin. It’s beautiful. It’s deadly. It makes Shiro groan Keith’s name into their kiss.

Shiro shifts himself over Keith’s leg so he can grind himself down at full force. He’s so full and heavy. The jeans are tight against him and they dull the sensation, but Shiro is a powder keg waiting to blow and he’ll take what he can get.

Keith’s nails scratch down the back of Shiro’s neck. He says something against Shiro’s lips, but it’s lost in their filthy kiss. So, he takes Shiro by the hair, pulling Shiro away with a filthy smacking noise.

“Stop, Shiro.”

Immediately, Shiro stills. It comes with a small whine he can’t help because he’s _desperate;_ but still he stops. 

“Off,” Keith demands, and he pushes Shiro’s shoulders, forcing Shiro off the bed and to his feet. “Watch me.” 

Shiro’s heart jumps to his throat, his eyes bugging nearly out of his skull, as Keith pulls the cord of his robe and opens the fabric. It pools white around him.

Keith’s body is small and lithe. It’s long and firm in all the right ways. His skin is a flushed pink that travels all the way down his chest to dusky brown nipples. He’s got just a hint of a treasure trail leading to his perfect, erect cock. It’s hard, and reddened from their grinding, dark at the tip. 

Shiro’s mouth waters. This young body is so small, so compact, and _perfect_. Shiro can’t stop looking. 

For a long moment, Keith lets him. He’s happy to lay there and preen under Shiro’s appreciative gaze, but soon enough Keith tires of being admired. He reaches up with long, clever fingers, his arms still trapped in the plush fabric of his robe, and he plucks at one nipple.

Those razor-sharp blue eyes don’t leave Shiro as he rolls his nipple and flicks it. His other hand starts to slide down his body until he takes himself in hand and brushes a thumb over the wet tip of his cock.

Shiro whimpers just watching it. It must feel so good! Keith looks so good like this. Delectable! Shiro wants to fall to the bed and lay worship to this young body with his lips and tongue and hands. 

But Keith told him to watch, so Shiro worships with his eyes. He doesn’t let one movement escape his notice as Keith starts to stroke himself nice and slow, his other hand still plucking and teasing his nipple until it grows dark. 

Keith pulls himself with slow serenity – savouring the pull of his hand against himself, moaning wantonly with every twist of his wrist and swipe of his thumb. 

Shiro is reduced to nothing but a set of eyes. He can hardly feel the rest of his body, all he knows is what he sees. And all he sees is Keith taking himself apart. 

Slowly, Keith starts to build a rhythm. It’s not fast – not by any means – but it’s steady and it draws out little bubbles of precum every few minutes as he draws it out. It’s almost like he’s trying to prove to Shiro he can last, like he’s showing Shiro that this evening is the car was just a fluke. That Keith can go all night if Shiro wants him to.

Christ, Shiro needs something to lean against, he feels like he can hardly hold himself up. But nothing and no one could ever drag his attention away from Keith long enough to find support. Shiro is riveted by each pass of the boy’s hand over himself. His grip is so tight, so sure, so helplessly drawn out. And his fingers dance over his chest, touching sensitive areas around Keith’s neck and hips before returning to pluck at his nipples. 

Those nipples would taste like heaven on Shiro’s tongue. He’d roll them with his tongue and lips, maybe even his teeth. He’d adore them until they’re red and Keith is crying for want of Shiro’s mouth. 

Shiro takes a deep breath as Keith’s hand slowly drops from his nipple and eases down his body to settle between his legs. He takes his balls in hand and massages them lightly. Then he’s stretching his body, opening his legs to give Shiro a perfect view of one tight, dark, little pucker. 

Keith brings his hand back up to lick it and sends it, dripping, back down so he can tease himself down there. 

The hand on his cock keeps steady time, drawing out more precum until the glide is slick and squishing between Keith’s fingers. His other fingers circle his hole. 

It’s not a gesture meant to stretch himself, he’s not trying to fuck himself. He’s just doing it for the pleasure of being touched there. Keith circles and rubs along his taint and back down around his ass, teasing at his entrance.

_‘ What if I ask you to eat my ass?’_ Keith had asked.

Shiro can see it perfectly. He can see himself buried in Keith’s ass, those firm thighs wrapped around his head, as he gorges himself on Keith’s hole. He’d tease just like Keith is doing now, lapping up across his taint to his balls before sucking and nibbling at Keith’s puckered little asshole. He’d make them both filthy with it, he’d coax every ounce of pleasure that he could until Keith was seeing stars. Then he’d put in just one, long finger, just enough to find Keith’s prostate and attack it. He’d have heel marks down his back, and cum splattered all across his face, and he’d just keep going until Keith was milked dry and oversensitive.

“Daddy!” Keith cries, eyes finally starting to roll back into his head.

Shiro has no idea if he accidentally spoke his desires out loud, or if Keith’s pleasure has just finally come to a boil, but either way, the change in Keith is dramatic. 

His hands work together at the same pace, wringing pleasure from his cock and his hole. His body writhes on the bed, his legs flexing and his heels digging into the blankets. His head tilts back as his eyes roll closed. His sweet little mouth falls open in pleasure, moaning and gasping for breath.

And then – oh!

Oh! He’s coming in strips that paint up Keith’s chest. 

He keeps stroking himself, working out every drop of bliss his body holds, as more and more cum splatters his chest. 

When he’s done, Keith’s arms drop to the bed like he no longer has the strength to lift them. His eyes are still closed, and he rubs his head back against the covers a few times before he shifts and looks up with half-lidded, sex-hazed eyes.

The smile he gives Shiro is dreamy and relaxed.

“Did you like that, daddy?” he asks, sounding sleepy.

Shiro’s voice cracks on his “yes.” His mouth is dry, he’s dying of thirst in so many ways. 

Now that the show is done, he can feel his awareness returning to the rest of his body. He’s painfully hard in his jeans, and it feels like he’s made a wet spot from his overrun desire. He’s panting like he’s just run a marathon, though all he’s done is stand here and watch the boy take himself apart.

His lips are dry, so he runs his tongue over them, and he doesn’t miss the sleepy way Keith’s eyes track the movement. 

Keith picks himself up and sits at the edge of the bed, moving slow and sluggish like a vixen in an old movie. 

All he has to do is reach out his hand and Shiro is there. Keith tilts up his head and Shiro takes the bait, pressing a kiss to Keith’s swollen lips. 

For a brief moment, there’s hunger in their kiss again, Keith matching Shiro’s energy. But then he pulls back, his thumb running along Shiro’s cheek.

“Goodnight, Shiro,” he says softly.

“Goodnight, Keith.” 

Shiro gives a kiss to the crown of Keith’s head and reluctantly pulls away. 

When he’s in his own room, Shiro strips out of his pants and inspects them. Sure enough, there’s a dark wet patch just by the pocket. 

This boy is going to be the death of him.

Shiro opts for a cold shower before bed. As he cleans himself off, Shiro wonders whether Keith did all that on purpose. If he gave Shiro the show just so Shiro would make a mess in his pants too.

The answer, Shiro decides as he crawls into his silk sheets – making a point to keep his arms above the blankets lest he succumb to temptation – is _yes_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoooo BOY!!!! This chapter is Hawt, if I do say so myself! Keith knowing how hot he is is a dangerous thing. Bad for Shiro's blood pressure, probably.
> 
> Peeps, I just re-read this chapter and I'm so fucking proud of it. Like, that shit's good and hot and I love it. 
> 
> Next chapter has some more steam, but also some non-sexual intimacy! Something for everyone, yay!
> 
> So, in writing news, I'm trying to get over a bad writer's block, which isn't going great. I've entered the stage where I start like 5 new fics/day and then drop them all because I don't like them. Hopefully it'll even out soon. *fingers crossed*
> 
> I love all of your excitement for this fic! You all are so great and encouraging!! Your enthusiasm is contagious and I thoroughly enjoy how empathetic you all are to Shiro's plight lol. Thank you all so much for every comment and kudos! it really means a lot to me! <3<3
> 
> And, as always, you can give me a follow on twitter or tumblr if you like. <3<3  
> Twitter: [@WTuesdays](https://twitter.com/WTuesdays)  
> Tumblr: [WatermelonTuesdays](https://watermelontuesdays.tumblr.com/)


	8. Got My World Flipped Upside Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith welcomes Shiro homes from work. Which leads to some sexy fun and the romantic shower scene of your dreams.

Within a week, they’ve developed a pattern. 

Shiro works and Keith entertains himself at home. Sometimes he cooks, sometimes he shops (because of course Shiro broke down and got Keith his own credit card), sometimes he yells at other teenagers online while playing games. But when Shiro comes home, Keith is always waiting for him. Some days he’s waiting with a sweet smile and a kiss, some days he’s just sitting on the couch waiting with open arms for Shiro to fall into.

Today, Shiro worked late, and when he enters the penthouse Keith comes running down the hall and launches himself into Shiro’s arms. He wraps himself tight around Shiro and nearly knocks them to the floor.

“I missed you, daddy,” Keith says happily. He kisses Shiro soundly and even when Shiro deposits him on the back of the couch he maintains his koala grip.

“Missed you too, baby,” Shiro says. He groans as Keith’s legs wrap even tighter around him. Keith laughs as he feels Shiro already start to harden in his slacks.

Because that’s the other constant of their routine. Keith is still teasing Shiro, still testing Shiro’s resolve not to demand any favours. And Shiro, man of his word, doesn’t ask Keith for a thing. Some days that requires Shiro biting his tongue till it nearly bleeds, but still, he doesn’t do it. He is firm – he gives because he likes Keith and wants Keith to have every luxury. He doesn’t give because he’s trying to buy Keith’s body – or his affection.

“Look at you,” Keith says, trailing a teasing light touch over Shiro’s bulge. “So stressed. Was work rough today?”

“You have no idea.”

“Poor thing,” Keith rubs at Shiro’s temples, massaging along his scalp. It works a good deal of the stress away, and Shiro finds himself burrowing into Keith’s neck, taking a deep breath of that strawberry sweet scent of his hair. He presses closer still and rubs himself between Keith’s legs. He hardly registers doing it, he’s just seeking the comfort of Keith’s body.

Keith guides Shiro into a kiss, and Shiro feels more of his long workday fade away. Stress is a silent killer, and Shiro thinks he might finally have found his cure.

His mouth seeks Keith for the balm Keith is. He leans into Keith’s space, desperate for more. But Keith pulls back. Just a little. Just enough to make Shiro follow. He follows Keith back and back and back until they’re stretched over the back of the couch, barely balancing.

With a happy cry, Keith tilts all the way down. His knees catch on the back of the couch, while the rest of him lays across the seat, looking up at Shiro with delight in his eyes. Keith’s hair fans out beneath him like an oil painting of something sacred and holy. 

Shiro’s personal deity.

“God, baby,” Shiro says. There’s a hint of laughter in his voice, but the humour leaves him quick when he maps out the line of Keith’s body and sees the way Keith’s crotch is suspended in the air. Shiro needs only to lower his face and he can nuzzle down into Keith’s soft yoga pants. Shiro’s mouth waters. “Baby, can I suck you?” Shiro asks, his head already lowering into Keith’s space of its own accord.

The request is not exactly outside of the realm of their relationship. Though Shiro has been tormented and tempted over the last week, he has had a hand in Keith’s pleasure multiple times. Not usually so directly, but there’s nothing in these strange, unspoken rules that says they can’t.

“Mmm,” Keith hums indecisively. 

Shiro lowers his face more, aiming directly for Keith’s crotch, but he aborts last second and nuzzles his face down into Keith’s thighs instead. 

“It’s up to you, baby,” Shiro says, but he cheats a little, biting gently at the inside of Keith’s thigh. He likes this position, likes that for once, Keith is trapped. True, Keith can get out at any time, he just needs to swing his legs down into an inelegant roll from the couch – but still. Right now, Keith is at Shiro’s mercy, and the idea of it is thrilling.

“You want to suck me off, daddy?” Keith asks. His hands find Shiro’s hair and pets it gently – almost lovingly.

“Please.”

“Just a little, then. And just your mouth.”

Shiro groans. And with that, Keith takes the power again. And Shiro is helpless to disobey. 

He nuzzles back down into Keith’s thighs, then moves himself lower along the couch to press his cheek against Keith’s cock and rub. Keith’s not fully hard, but Shiro doesn’t mind waking him up.

Though he was told not to use his hands, Shiro does lift them under Keith’s body to grip his ass, holding him in place so Shiro can rub his nose and cheeks all along Keith’s crotch like a puppy looking for scent. He licks at Keith over the fabric, rubs his lips over the thickening erection, hums and nuzzles until Keith is hard and starting to squirm in Shiro’s hands. 

It takes teeth and determination to pull Keith’s yoga pants up. They’re tight like Keith is vacuum sealed inside them and it’s a fight to free him. 

Once he’s free, Keith hangs heavy over his belly, aimed down and away from Shiro, so that Shiro has to stretch and use his cheek to get Keith in range of his lips. 

Keith moans as Shiro tries, so Shiro takes his time with it. He rolls his face, kissing and sucking randomly across Keith’s dick. It doesn’t take long for Shiro to make an absolute mess of it, with spit and precum streaked across his cheeks and forehead. But Shiro loves it. 

He’s never been one for messy sex before. Never been one to be adventurous at all with sex. And here he is with this 19-year-old spitfire, they haven’t even had sex yet, and Shiro’s having the filthiest, most extreme experiences of his life. 

“God, baby, you’re perfect for me,” Shiro sighs earnestly as he mouths at Keith’s balls. 

“Mmmpf, Shiro,” is Keith’s only reply. His fist hits the seat of the couch with a muted ‘puck’ sound. “I thought you were going to suck me?”

Shiro growls his agreement. He stretches until he can lick at the tip of Keith’s cock and draw it into his mouth. The taste of salt explodes across his tongue and fills his mouth with drool. Shiro lets it all drip down Keith’s length, easing the way down as Shiro swallows him to the root. 

It’s been a long time since he’s had anyone’s cock in his mouth, but there are some things you don’t really forget. Shiro sucks Keith hard and moves himself slow, drawing it out so that Keith is near-screaming when Shiro reaches his head. He suckles there for a while, making a meal out of Keith’s bursting precum, and tonguing at the folds of Keith’s foreskin. 

“Christ! Shiro! Christ!” Keith cries, his fist hitting the sofa again. 

Shiro makes a hungry noise as he descends again. He can’t help but massage Keith’s perfect, apple ass in his hands and lift just enough to push Keith deep into his throat. Shiro keeps going like that, alternating fucking Keith deep and suckling at his tip.

When Keith finally comes, it’s explosive.

He tries to warn Shiro with a shouted “Daddy!” or two, but it doesn’t connect. Shiro is too lost in what he’s doing. 

Shiro is suckling Keith, with the tip of his cock nestled on the pillow of Shiro’s lips, when the boy comes. He shoots into Shiro’s mouth, then jerks and splatters along Shiro’s face before emptying the rest all over the couch and Keith’s shirt. 

It’s an absolute mess, but Shiro’s only thought is that he can’t get his mouth back on Keith fast enough to see Keith through it. Instead, Shiro takes Keith’s balls in his mouth and massages them with his lips, feeling the way they tense with every burst as Keith empties himself all over the place.

“Daddy,” Keith gasps when it’s over. It’s just a single word, but it’s full of praise, and Shiro feels it all the way down to the tips of his toes. 

Then Keith’s hands are in Shiro’s hair again and he’s tugging to lift Shiro up. “Daddy, let me look at you. Oh!” Keith gasps again, “you look so fucking good like this, Shiro.” 

Keith swipes his thumb across the cum on Shiro’s face, but he doesn’t clean it up. He spreads it all around Shiro’s cheek, over the edge of Shiro’s scar and down almost to Shiro’s jaw. 

“You look beautiful,” Shiro answers. It’s true. Keith is flushed and sated and covered in his own cum. He’s stunning. 

Shiro helps Keith pull his legs from the couch and watches him roll off and jump to his feet.

“We need a shower,” Keith decides. 

Shiro offers his hand and Keith moves around the couch to accept it. Keith follows into Shiro’s bedroom and through to the master bathroom. Keith whistles as he takes in the double sinks and the enormous shower stall. “Swanky.”

They strip with embarrassed efficiency and Shiro turns on the waterfall showerhead and the steam function. He takes a deep breath before turning to look at Keith - he knows he'll need it. 

But Keith is turned away, holding his shirt in his hands the way one might hold an injured child to inspect the wound. 

"You ruined it," he accuses, turning to glare at Shiro,

Shiro shrugs. "Not my fault you can't control yourself around me." He flashes Keith a wicked grin that falters when the shirt in question hits across his face and falls to the floor. 

It leaves behind a smear of dampness just above Shiro's lip. It's filthy, and terrible, and he absolute _should not do it_ , but Shiro is weak. He licks his lips, catching a bit of the salt on his tongue.

Keith howls with laughter. It's a good sound, especially with the acoustics of the bathroom. It makes Shiro's grin crack just a little wider, proud of himself for causing Keith's elation. 

"You're disgusting," Keith says lovingly. He shoulders Shiro as he passes and steps into the shower. 

Shiro follows like the hopeless puppy he is, desperate for Keith's attention. He shuffles Keith into the corner and makes bambi eyes until he's allowed to wash Keith's hair. He takes his time at it, working the suds into a lather and combing them through Keith's hair with his fingers. 

Keith makes a little hum as Shiro gently kneads his scalp and leans back into Shiro's touch. 

"You like that?" Shiro asks. He circles his fingers around Keith's temples and then draws up to the top of Keith's head. Keith hums again and tilts further into Shiro's touch. 

Keith tilts far enough that Shiro can see the relaxed expression. His eyes are shut, his long lashes curling over his cheeks and catching the stray droplets from the shower. 

"You're so beautiful."

The soft words bring Keith's eyes fluttering open. He turns slowly in Shiro's hands, his blue eyes locked on Shiro's gaze.

There's something about the way Keith looks at Shiro. Something that shakes Shiro to the core and makes his knees want to tremble. It's been like that from the very first moment they laid eyes on each other, and it was enough to send Shiro scurrying over to the young boy's aid, begging cigarettes he never smoked. 

Shiro isn't exactly sap enough to say it's destiny or soulmates. But it _is_ attraction. The kind that spikes through Shiro down to his core and has him opening his wallet, his home, and (dare he say it?) his heart to Keith.

Keith doesn't say anything. He moves, slow and mesmerizing, drawing his hands up to Shiro's face. He traces the curve of the scar across Shiro's nose with the barest tips of his fingers. His eyes scan Shiro's entire face, looking for something Shiro can't ever guess.

Then Keith's fingers latch behind Shiro's neck and pull him down.

Lips meet lips.

It's warm and wet from the rain shower, but it's so much more. It's soft and loving, deep and caring. It pulls Shiro's heart by a hook up through his throat and settles it down, safely, in Keith's chest.

It says, more than words, exactly what Keith thinks of Shiro and it's... well... it's overwhelming.

"Wow," Shiro breathes when Keith's lips fall away. 

The warm flush on Keith's cheeks deepens, and he steps away, into the shower spray to rinse the suds from his hair. Once he's done, Keith returns to Shiro's side and presses the bottle of conditioner into Shiro's hand.

Shiro accepts the bottle happily and gets to work smoothing the slick cream through Keith's tresses. As he works, a warmth settles in Shiro that has nothing to do with their nakedness or the heat of the shower.

He likes Keith. He really _likes_ Keith. More than he thinks their age gap should allow.

Keith is something fresh, but more than that, he's a welcome challenge. He's an equal, despite the differences in age and income. He respects Shiro's past and any lingering secrets Shiro's been unwilling to spill between them. 

Shiro, likewise, respects Keith's boundaries. Keith is reticent as ever about his past, but he drops little tidbits here and there that give Shiro enough to put together a picture of struggle and adversity he hopes Keith never encounters again.

The past week has been like something out of someone else's life, and Shiro can't help but want to wrap himself around it. He wants to tie it to him, safe and secure, and his. But at the same time, he doesn't want to tie Keith down. This arrangement has always been built on what Keith wants, on whether he wants to stay or not; and Shiro will toss himself to the sharks before he betrays that foundation. 

Still... when Keith raises shampoo-coated fingers up and digs into Shiro's scalp, relieving tension Shiro didn't even know he had, Shiro _wants_ this. He wants it more than anything he's ever known.

But Shiro closes his eyes and bites his tongue and he says nothing. He just lets Keith care for him. And with a deep breath, he lets go of his anxieties. For now.

After their shower, they put on comfy clothes, order a meal, and curl in beside each other on the couch in Shiro's entertainment centre. They watch a bit of this sci-fi show they picked up a few days before to entertain them while they eat, and then they launch Shiro's X-box and play every competitive game they can find.

When it’s time for bed, Keith lifts up on his toes to plant the sweetest kiss on Shiro’s lips before murmuring a soft “good night.” He holds Shiro’s hand until he’s through the bedroom door and their fingers can no longer reach.

Shiro goes to bed with his heart full and his lips curved into smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for sticking with me for another chapter! 
> 
> This chapter brings the spice and the feels. I love their shower scene! Also, I hope Keith's position on the couch is easy to figure out. It was a little hard to describe without reading too much like an Ikea manual ("hang apparatus upside down and insert pole K into slot S"). 
> 
> Next chapter is the return of Brat!Keith, so that's something to look forward to! 
> 
> I really, really, _really_ love and appreciate all your lovely comments! And kudos! They make my day. I'm so happy you guys are enjoying it and sticking with this multi-chapter blue-balling with me!
> 
> Also, a few people have alluded to possible angst in the future of this... I updated the tags a bit to be more accurate. I wrote this fic at the beginning of Covid with the purpose of it being angst-free, just something soft and horny to enjoy writing for myself and because I thought the Sheith community didn't need any angst or negativity at the time. Not that there's anything wrong with angst, I just couldn't handle it at the time and wanted to offer a distraction from the world's colossal suckitude. So, there will be one or two moments in the coming chapters that are a bit emotional, but not really anything resembling angst or hurt. That's just not what this fic is. ^-^ (If it's angst you're after, stay tuned, the fic I'm working on now is angst-heavy and should start posting in a few months? Not sure of the exact schedule yet. Gotta finish it first.)
> 
> And as always, you can find me rambling about Sheith on twitter or sowing up once every 2 weeks on tumblr to post a chapter and peace.  
> Twitter: [@WTuesdays](https://twitter.com/WTuesdays)  
> Tumblr: [WatermelonTuesdays](https://watermelontuesdays.tumblr.com/)


	9. Pretty as a Picture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith torments Shiro while he works. Then Shiro enacts his revenge.

The next day at work is better and worse. 

And the reason for both is Keith.

Though Shiro’s day starts at 5:30 am, Keith’s doesn’t start until he texts Shiro around 10 that he’s going on a shopping trip. Shortly after, he sends a selfie of himself in the driver’s seat of Shiro’s red Lamborghini. Shiro has to resist the urge to show the picture to Pidge several times. 

Keith’s only just learned of Shiro’s fondness for his selfies and now it’s their preferred way of filling Shiro in on Keith’s day. 

Pidge hates it.

Shiro shows her every single selfie anyway. He can’t help himself; Keith is too beautiful and Shiro is enraptured.

For the next hour, Shiro’s phone pings every few minutes with a new picture, and every few minutes Shiro scrambles to reach his phone and send back a flurry of happy emojis. It’s sweet and domestic and Shiro eats it up.

But Shiro has a 1 o’clock meeting, he _has_ to prepare for so he can’t just spend his day looking at his phone.

He’s about to flip his phone into silent mode when he feels it buzz in his hand and, well… one last text can’t hurt.

Except this picture is different. This picture makes Shiro’s heart race and his mouth run dry before he even has a chance to consciously understand what he’s looking at.

It’s Keith. He’s standing in a store just like he has in the last five selfies, only this time, the picture is showing the clothes display behind him. Or, _lingerie_ display – to be more accurate. 

He's grinning at the camera like a Cheshire cat, and reaching back to pluck at a red lacy number.

**Baby (11:17):**   
**Whaddaya think, daddy???**

Shiro audibly gulps. He sends a winking face and puts his phone down with great effort. He forces himself to pick up his speaking notes and review some of the more complex points on them.

Ten minutes later, when his phone pings again, Shiro nearly launches himself off his chair in his rush to pick it up. 

The next picture is Keith in the change room. The view is angled down, almost like Shiro himself is standing close and looking down at the boy. He looks to be in the same red getup that he was holding out, a tight lace camisole that curves around the muscles of his chest and fans out at his narrow little hips. He's got his finger in his mouth, and he's looking up through his lashes directly into the camera.

The image sends a jolt directly through Shiro - heading straight for his dick. 

He stares at the phone in his hands long enough that another picture comes in. This one is of Keith in a purple nightie.

Shiro is going to die.

Or be fired.

Or both.

**Sent (11:42):**   
**Baby, you’re so bad.**   
**You are going to get me in trouble.**

Keith's reply is a picture of a leopard-print dildo hovering scarce centimeters from Keith's mouth.

It's at that point that Shiro shoves his phone in his pocket and sits on it. It's the only way to avoid temptation.

His buttocks buzzes silently once, a few minutes later. Then again. Then in a small flurry of messages once Keith likely realized that Shiro is ignoring him.

Shiro is tough. He's a grown ass man and he's a damn professional. He goes through his notes twice, just to show he can, and then he heads to the meeting room. He makes sure everything is prepared, his glass of water at the ready. His presentation is up on the screen behind him, ready to go.

By this time, he's ahead of the game, and just waiting as employees and board members slowly file into the room.

Then there's another buzz, the first in nearly 45 minutes. 

Shiro is only so strong.

He checks there's no one behind him. No one close enough to see his screen. Then he slides to open.

He's heralded with a series of photos of Keith doing salacious things in the changing room, and a few out in the shop (such as pretending to blow a manikin) that make Shiro chuckle. There are some teasing texts strewn throughout the pictures. There's a **Dya like it, daddy?** and an **Arent i prettyy?**. And there's one ominous **Are you ignoring me daddy? ...**

**Daddy...?**

**Daaaaddddyyyyyyy**

**Youre going to regret being so mean to me, daddy.**

The last picture, the most recent one, is of Keith again. This time he's in a little black and white number that accentuates more than hides his body. He's laying back in grey sheets with his hair a mess beneath him.

And - wait! 

_Grey sheets?!_

Shiro does a visible double take as his heart kicks into gear. Keith is in his bed!

_Keith is in HIS bed!_

Another picture comes in while Shiro is trying valiantly not to pop a boner in the middle of this meeting. 

This one is of Keith, legs wrapped around Shiro's pillow, with his nose buried into the edge of it like he's smelling Shiro on the fabric. 

Shiro throws the phone into his pocket like it's personally offended him and stands up. Those nearest to him all pull back in surprise at his sudden movement and clear aggravation. 

Shiro paces a few times, jerking his arms to get more comfortable in his shirt. It feels so warm and restrictive on him now.

He has to focus. He _can_ focus. It's just....

It's just, Keith is in _Shiro's_ bed! He's wearing that skimpy little outfit and rolling around Shiro's sheets. He's smelling where Shiro sleeps.

He's leaving his own scent behind to torment Shiro tonight.

Christ! God. Shit! No, Shiro can do this. He just has to get a grip on himself.

He takes a deep breath. And then his phone buzzes again. 

It's another picture - Shiro just knows it. He can feel it, as certain as day. Another buzz, another picture.

But now it's 1. 

Shiro shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Are you ok, Mr. Shirogane?" one of the more industrious of Shiro's employees, Griffin, asks. 

"Fine," Shiro says. Another breath, and then, more convincingly, "I'm fine." 

He takes one more breath and turns to his meeting with a welcoming look. 

"Let's get started, shall we?"

Shiro's phone burns a hole in his pocket throughout the meeting and well into the afternoon. He doesn't _dare_ look at it, because if he does, he'll be locking himself away in his private bathroom to make a fool out himself.

At the end the of day - the very moment the clock hits 4 pm - Shiro opens his phone and sends a single text.

**You're in such TROUBLE, Baby.**

Keith is waiting for Shiro at the door when he gets home in yet another set of lingerie. This one is black and red, with leather straps that cross over his sternum and wrap around his legs and arms. His butt is poured into a tight leather pair of booty shorts.

Shiro drops his briefcase, coat, and jacket on the floor and loosens his tie. His eyes focus on Keith like the boy is prey.

Which he is.

"You have till the count of 4, baby." He forces his voice to go deep and commanding. "1," he counts.

Keith squeals in delight and takes off. 

Shiro's already moving by the time he reaches "4." He chases Keith down the hall to his office. 

The boy is spinning in place, with Shiro's big, heavy glass desk between them, like he's trying to look for a secret exit. Shiro grins as he stalks slowly into the room, creeping around the edge of the desk. His eyes don't waver from Keith, ready to pounce as soon as the boy darts for the door.

But then Keith vaults himself over the desk, rustling some of the papers as he soars over the glass top and runs for the door.

Shiro yells and laughs as he gives chase. He hunts Keith back into the large living room, where they both weave through the double sets of sofas. Keith jumps over the backs of sofas, chairs, and coffee tables with such easy grace. With his long legs, bare feet, skimpy outfit, and ethereal beauty, Keith looks like some playful Grecian woodnymph. 

They're laughing and taunting each other as they chase each other, both breathing heavy when Keith finally leads the way into Shiro's bedroom.

He's an easy catch after that, allowing Shiro to take him around the waist and toss him to the bed. Shiro has him pinned in a flash, using his height and weight to bear down on the younger boy. 

They share a look. 

Keith's eyes are dark with want, the pupils dilated so they're only lightly haloed in blue. Keith smiles up at Shiro, looking like everything is over.

But it's not.

Shiro's fingers find the soft little bare spots on Keith's barely-there outfit and he digs in. 

"Ahh!" the boy screams and laughs, his arms flailing to try and push Shiro off as Shiro tickles him mercilessly. 

Shiro is immovably solid. His fingers suss out every tender, ticklish spot on Keith’s body and attacks. 

Beneath him, Keith writhes like a boa constrictor, strong and tense. He’s laughing so hard he can barely breath. The noises he makes sounds more like a stuck pig than laughter, but it just goads Shiro further.

Keith isn’t saying to stop.

He’s squealing. He’s yelling Shiro’s name. He gets out a few good natured “No!!”s. But he doesn’t say or do anything that makes Shiro think he’s gone too far.

So, Shiro pushes.

Shiro's metal arm clamps over Keith's wrists and presses them into the blankets above Keith’s head; he holds the boy in place and continues his tickle attack. Like this, Shiro has unfettered access to Keith’s pits. The moment his fingers touch Keith’s underarms, the boy’s whole body contracts, lifting himself and Shiro up off the bed for a long second before they crash back down. 

Shiro does it again, and this time, Keith tries to buck him off. Shiro easily traps Keith’s legs under his feet, keeping him from getting the purchase he needs to get away. Shiro’s fingers drop down along his side, squeezing and tickling as he goes. 

And then something changes.

Shiro hits some invisible spot near Keith’s hips that turn his laughter into moans. Like pressing a button, Shiro can feel Keith’s body heat beneath him. The response is instantaneous. Shiro licks his lips in anticipation and touches Keith in the same spot.

It takes a second to find the exact inch of skin that lights Keith up like that, but it’s worth the search. Keith moans again and pulls helplessly at Shiro’s wrists – not like he’s trying to get away, but like he’s overcome and can’t help the gesture. His lips pout and once again Shiro only just resists the urge to sink his teeth into Keith’s lower lip. 

“You like that, baby?” Shiro asks, like he doesn’t already know. He circles his thumb over the spot, “right here?”

Keith’s thighs are straining against Shiro now, trying to get the leverage to thrust himself upwards, but Shiro holds him in place.

"Is that good?"

Keith shoots Shiro a glare that says 'yes, and you know it is,' but a glare isn't enough for Shiro.

"Tell me, baby." He strokes the spot in a slow curve of his thumb and settles himself lower over Keith. Low enough he can feel the boy's panting breath against his cheek.

"Yes," Keith whines, "it's good, daddy."

The name is like a drug on Shiro's mind. He presses himself closer - lower. His nose is buried in Keith's neck, drawing along the column of his throat. Their hips are so _so_ close Shiro can feel the heat burning off Keith's skin. He can almost feel the trembling in Keith's body as he strokes again.

"Tell me what you want, Keith," Shiro urges in a low whisper. "I can't do anything unless you tell me."

Keith's eyes are dark with want, and his gaze is hazy from desire. He squirms under Shiro's grasp but can't budge the wall of muscle holding him down.

He struggles and strains for a little while, clearly enjoying himself, then he relaxes back into the bed.

Something changes in Keith's expression as he relents to Shiro's control. A softening around the eyes. A fear? A surrender?

Shiro has no idea, but it stills his hand. 

Shiro watches at Keith's emotions flutter across the boy's face, until something like a shadow passes over him. Keith's chin quivers and his eyes close. He takes a steadying breath.

"Off."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XDDD Ah ha ha ha ha HAA!! I feel kind of like a villain with this chapter ending. I'm sorry (not really) but it had to be done. This was the only natural place to end, or else there would just be wayyyy too much happening in one chapter.
> 
> In better news, next chapter is possibly my favourite chapter? A lot happens. There's some talking, some spice, and some _moments_ happening. I can't wait to share it!!! (Though I will wait my 2 weeks, because I'm cruel like that, apparently)
> 
> Thank you so much for still reading and keeping up with this. And for everyone who kudos and comments, just know I love you guys so so much! I'm always blown away with how many people comment so soon after I post! It really warms my heart!
> 
> I hope you guys like bratty Keith as much as I do in this chapter. Not to be too TMI, but the spot on his hip is 100% based on me. Except on me it's not sexy. It's an instant kill to anyone trying to tickle me. Whoops. I figured it'd come off better in a fic as horny, rather than having Keith accidentally knee Shiro in the groin lol (though you never know, maybe in another fic).
> 
> Also, I'm considering trying to condense my tags? I'm so bad at tagging, and I never know what's the right amount? I've been trying to add with the chapters too... i dunno.... I've yet to find that sweet balance of 'accurate tags without overtagging' ya know?
> 
> Anyways, if ya wanna follow me, you can find me at:  
> Twitter: [@WTuesdays](https://twitter.com/WTuesdays)  
> Tumblr: [WatermelonTuesdays](https://watermelontuesdays.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


	10. Not Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith tests Shiro's limits, first on purpose and then by surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last time on a Very Special episode of _Blue Ballin'_  
>  ~*~*~*~*~
> 
> Keith's eyes are dark with want, and his gaze is hazy from desire. He squirms under Shiro's grasp but can't budge the wall of muscle holding him down.
> 
> He struggles and strains for a little while, clearly enjoying himself, then he relaxes back into the bed.
> 
> Something changes in Keith's expression as he relents to Shiro's control. A softening around the eyes. A fear? A surrender?
> 
> Shiro has no idea, but it stills his hand. 
> 
> Shiro watches at Keith's emotions flutter across the boy's face, until something like a shadow passes over him. Keith's chin quivers and his eyes close. He takes a steadying breath.
> 
> "Off."

Shiro rolls off and away from Keith without any hesitation.

"On your back." Keith reaches out and snags Shiro's shirt. "This. Off."

The buttons snap and fly across the room in Shiro's haste to comply. Keith's dextrous little fingers unclasp the button of Shiro's pants and then they're flung across the room as well. 

Shiro settles on the bed, his heart hammering in his chest. He looks to Keith for guidance, for some sign of what's happening. 

"Up," Keith tugs at Shiro's arm, pulling him up against the pillows until Shiro is in a half recline. "Arms above your head. Don't move."

The temptation to reach out and feel Keith's skin as the boy settles himself in Shiro's lap is overwhelming. Shiro makes a cry like a wounded animal as Keith's weight presses against him.

They're both in underwear - Keith in his straps and tight little leather shorts and Shiro in his tighty-whities. Still, the heat between them is scorching. And the weight of Keith is lethal.

"You're something else, you know that?" Keith asks, his voice husky as his fingers enclose Shiro's jaw and spread back to touch at Shiro's ears and neck. He lowers himself slowly. So slowly, Shiro counts the crashing beat of his heart as he waits.

Keith presses a kiss to Shiro's chin. "You're not like anyone else I've ever known." Soft lips draw along Shiro's skin and kiss at the corner of his mouth. "I don't understand it."

The kiss Keith presses to Shiro's lips is so fleeting, Shiro can hardly feel it. He's just left with the ghost of Keith's warmth on his skin as proof it happened. 

Every atom in Shiro’s body is attuned to Keith's. And his mind is racing. Though it shuts down briefly as Keith rears back and grinds his hips down in a single, slow twist that has Shiro cursing and straining not to move. 

Sweet fingers trail down Shiro’s neck and chest, leaving a fiery echo in their wake. 

Keith ducks his head beneath Shiro's jaw and kisses over his pulse. This kiss has a nip of teeth.

"How can someone like you," Keith pauses to nip Shiro again, "want something like me?"

It’s not a real question. Or at least, not one for Shiro to answer. Not right now. There’s something in Keith’s tone, in the fiery glint in Keith’s eye, that holds Shiro’s tongue.

Keith’s hands find Shiro's pecs and he cups them, squeezing gently to feel the full firmness of Shiro's muscles.

"How can someone like you exist?"

He sneaks down further and licks across Shiro’s collar bone.

“You’re so good to me, daddy.”

Keith works his way lower and lower, singing Shiro’s praises against heated skin, nipping and licking along the way. When he gets down far enough, Keith swings off Shiro’s lap and kneels between Shiro’s opened legs. His hands settle and smooth up and down Shiro’s inner thighs.

“You’re sure there’s nothing you want, daddy? Nothing you want to ask me for?” Keith drags his teeth across Shiro’s abs and hangs his head, his warm skin only a hair’s breadth from where Shiro’s throbbing in his underwear. 

Those sharp eyes are scanning Shiro, daring him to give in and ask for something, anything, from Keith. 

It takes all his control. Shiro keeps his arms in place, just like he’d been told, and he holds Keith’s gaze with a steely one of his own. He shakes his head.

Keith grins with wicked delight.

“You’re so special, daddy.” 

The plush warmth of Keith’s cheek presses firmly down into Shiro’s lap, rubbing the fabric of his underwear against his thick girth. It shocks a deep and wanton moan out of him, and he bucks against Keith’s face, seeking more. Seeking any scrap Keith will give him.

“Any other daddy would have had me six ways from Sunday by now. And twice on Saturday.” Keith speaks directly onto Shiro’s cock, his hot breath searing through Shiro’s briefs and dampening the flesh beneath. 

Shiro groans and tilts his head back. He can’t look, but he can’t look away either. 

“But you’re not like any other daddy, are you?”

Keith licks a strip along Shiro’s bulge, slicking his underwear with spit and making Shiro hiss with anticipation. Every second, Shiro thinks this might be it, this might be when he finally gets those pouty pink lips around his cock.

“You spoil me,” Keith’s bottom lip digs a circle under the mushroom head of Shiro’s cock. It’s all Shiro can do not to move his hands. But Keith told him not to move; he can’t even grip at the pillows beneath him. It’s torture. But a sweet one. “You listen to me. You take me places to show me off.”

The boy mouths his way back down Shiro’s cock, taking his time, leaving dark wet spots all along Shiro’s briefs. They turn cool as Keith’s moves on, but that’s titillating in its own way. 

“Why are you so good to me?”

Shiro can feel those dark blue eyes on him before he even dares to look.

The sight of Keith, hair tossed and wild from their fun, eyes penetrating the deepest parts of Shiro’s mind, lips resting lightly on Shiro’s package, is almost more than Shiro can bear.

“Why?”

Shiro groans as Keith begins to nuzzle down against him again. Every once in a while, there’s a bite of teeth. It’s not enough to hurt, just enough to make Shiro crazy, his legs kicking uselessly at the blankets, his hips working like mad to get more and more of Keith.

“Tell me.”

“You’re special. I just – I just like you. I want to take care of you.” If he could, Shiro would cover his face in his hands to fight the surge of embarrassment he feels trying to express himself while Keith is rubbing his cheek against Shiro’s filthy, spit covered underwear. 

“But you don’t want anything in return?”

Keith still doesn’t get it. Shiro knows he doesn’t. But all he can do is repeat himself for the hundredth time.

“I want anything you’ll give me, but only if you want. I don’t – oh! Christ, Keith. Fuck! Uuugggh, I don’t want to buy you.”

Keith does a mean thing with his tongue against Shiro’s ball sack and Shiro curses again.

“Hmmm,” Keith hums. He draws the sound out, pressing his lips firm against Shiro’s length so that Shiro can feel the vibrations. “You’re so perfect, daddy. So strong. So smart. So kind.” He punctuates each phrase with a wet, slopping kiss, and pauses his praise to lave over Shiro’s head with his tongue, licking the salt from the fabric. “You’re so handsome, too. I could lick you all night.”

He nuzzles down again, rubbing his forehead along the messy tip of Shiro’s cock as he mouths along lower. 

"Keith,” Shiro warns, desperately. “Keith! I'm gonna.."

Keith drags his teeth along the base. "No, you're not."

Shiro whimpers and fights off his orgasm.

It’s so hard not to lose himself. Not to rip his underwear away and shove himself deep into Keith’s throat. Keith could take him all – every inch of him! Shiro knows. He’s seen the boy eat a banana once and he vowed _never_ to do it again.

Keith wraps his whole mouth around the widest part of Shiro’s girth, right in the middle, and he sucks hard. It makes a disgusting, wretched noise through the fabric but it feels….

There are no words for how it feels. It’s good, but not good enough. It’s strange, but oddly delightful. It’s…

It’s…

Gone. 

Keith sits back on his heels and wipes his face, looking proud of himself. 

“All done,” he says.

What? 

No. _What?_

What’s happening? How – wha – where?

Shiro scrambles to make sense of it. He feels like the world just got tilted to the left. All he knows is he’s _seconds_ from blowing a load in his tighty-whities and Keith is pulling his fingers through the tangled mess of his hair like nothing’s going on.

“That’s all I wanted to give,” his eyes flash, evilly, “daddy.”

Shiro whimpers and slowly starts to move his arms out from behind his head. He gives a questioning look to Keith to make sure it’s ok to move, and Keith nods his permission.

This is another test. Clearly. 

Keith’s seeing just how far he can rile Shiro up.

And, granted, Shiro is riled up _pretty high_ at the moment, and he’s feeling more than a little dizzy and disoriented (and hard as stone). But he’s not going to take the bait.

“Ok.” Shiro shifts to the edge of the bed. “That’s ok.” He shoots Keith a glance; the boy is watching him like a hungry vulture. “Can I get myself off?”

“Nuh uh,” Keith shakes his head.

Shiro winces. 

“Ok. Can we shower?”

Keith hums briefly as he considers the offer, then holds out his hand to Shiro with a smile. Shiro stands and pulls Keith to his feet. 

They walk hand in hand to the bathroom, and Keith lets Shiro pull the outfit off him strap by strap. In the shower, they wash each other’s hair and backs, and they kiss freely under the warm spray. 

When they’re done, they sit in their robes in the living room under candlelight and Shiro runs his fingers through Keith’s wet hair while they wait for food to arrive. Keith entertains Shiro with stories of his childhood dreams.

“I wanted to be an astronaut,” Keith admits, hiding his blush in Shiro’s arm. “Well, at first I wanted to be a fireman, ya know? But then I read a book about the solar system and then I wanted to be an astronaut. Or an astronaut-fireman. I was devastated when my teacher told me there’s no fires in space because there’s no oxygen.”

Shiro chuckles. It’s a sweet thought. Maybe even bittersweet considering Keith’s currently 19 years old, unemployed, and not in school.

“Now what do you want to do?” he prods gently.

“When I grow up?” Keith flashes a cheesy grin that makes Shiro smile in response. He can’t help but smile around Keith.

“Sure. Or in a few years time. You know. Whenever.”

“What? You don’t think I’m already living my dream job as a mistress?”

He’s joking to cover up his insecurities, Shiro knows it, Keith knows it. Still, Shiro humours him with a polite chuckle.

“You can be my kept man as long as you like, baby. You know that.” Shiro turns to press a kiss to Keith’s forehead. “But if there’s anything else you want to do… we could make that happen.”

Keith is looking down at his hands, playing with the tie of Shiro’s robe. He snorts derisively, “What, you’re going to send some punk kid to college? I haven’t even sucked your dick yet, Shiro. Come on.”

Shiro doesn’t humour the attempt at humour this time. 

“Do you want to go to college?” He dips his head so he can see those blue eyes hidden under Keith’s bangs.

The boy is speechless, his mouth hung half-open like he wants to speak but doesn’t know how.

“Don’t joke, Shiro.”

That is the most fragile Keith has ever sounded, and a part of Shiro’s heart breaks to hear it.

“I’m not joking. I’ve got the money.”

“But…” 

Shiro can see Keith doing the math in his mind, four years of college is a lot of money. Even to someone like Shiro, it’s no chump change, though he can easily afford it.

“I could build you a trust.”

“A _what?_ ”

“A trust. You know, put in enough money to cover tuition and expenses for the 4 years. That way, if anything happens, you’ll still be covered.”

Keith’s eyes narrow. “Anything happens?”

“It’s 4 years, Keith. I’m not going to tie you to me that long.”

“So, you’re going to pay for my school and then get rid of me?” Keith is starting to sound a little freaked.

Shiro frowns. This isn’t going where he wants it to go. 

“No, baby. I want you as long as you’ll have me, I told you.” He pets Keith’s hair and pulls him into a tight embrace. He kisses the crown of Keith’s head three times. “But if you ever get tired of me, I don’t want you to be stuck playing boyfriend to some old coot just because he’s paying for your schooling. I want to give you the money so you can be independent.”

Keith relaxes under Shiro’s hold. “What old coot? Have you got some old guy hidden away somewhere for me?” He pretends to look around the room, then brightens as his eyes lock on Shiro’s. “Oh! You’re the old coot!”

Shiro smiles. “I am.”

They share a long kiss. Just something sweet between the two of them.

Then Coran knocks on the door, their food at the ready, Shiro asks Keith to go get it.

By the time Keith is back with their food and some plates and utensils, Shiro already has the beginnings of a trust fund agreement drafted on his phone. 

“Hey,” Shiro says, touching lightly at Keith’s back as he settles down on the couch. “Do you really want this? To go to school?”

Keith looks at his plate. He picks his words carefully. “I’ve… always wanted to go somewhere. Maybe with a good arts program, and like, maybe music? But I don’t know what I’d even study, it’d just be a waste to go and dick around when I don’t even know what I want.”

“But do you want to go?” Shiro presses. “No matter _what_ classes you take. Do you want to take them?”

“I…” Keith pauses for a long minute, still staring dead ahead at his plate, unblinking. “I do.”

Shiro ruffles Keith’s hair and pulls him in for a kiss. 

“Then it’s done.”

They spend the rest of their meal discussing universities. Shiro talks about different schools and programs that are available all across the country, and even across the world. He goes over tuition and costs of living, factors in the cost of travel if Keith decides to study anywhere else. And he figures out a trust fund of roughly 1 million, with interest to give Keith a bit of a buffer once school is done.

They talk about it in broad terms, just in the theoretical, because Shiro doesn’t want to overwhelm the boy. But this is happening. If it’s the last thing Shiro does, he’s setting Keith up with a trust fund. 

When the meal is done and the dishes cleared away to the kitchen, Keith sidles up to Shiro and pushes him back into the couch. He throws a leg over to straddle Shiro’s lap and pulls him into a deep kiss.

“Fuck me, Shiro,” Keith whispers as they break apart. He paws at Shiro’s robe, trying to draw it open without untying the belt. He works in a frenzy, eyes focused like he’s desperate. Or like he’s desperate to please. 

Warning bells ring in Shiro’s head. 

He takes Keith by each wrist and pulls his hands away.

“Not tonight, I think, baby,” Shiro says gently. He rests his cheek against Keith’s and takes a deep breath. 

“But…”

“Shh,” Shiro soothes, “you don’t owe me anything. I don’t want to own you, Keith. I just want to help you.” He pulls back so Keith can see how serious Shiro is right now. “You’re worth a million-dollar trust fund, Keith. You’re worth a top-rate education. You’re worth thousand-dollar suits and caviar in every meal.”

“But I’m not worth sex?” It sounds almost like an accusation, but Keith’s eyes are open and inquisitive, and Shiro thinks he genuinely wants to know the answer to the question.

“Baby, you’re worth far more than sex. Any other night, and you can have me any way you want. But not tonight.” He kisses the end of Keith’s nose. “Just not tonight.”

“Because you’re not buying me.”

“Never,” Shiro says. “There’s not enough money in the world to afford you.”

They kiss again, and this time Keith melts into it. He plasters himself to Shiro’s chest like he can’t support his own weight, and that’s fine by Shiro. He loves the feeling of Keith against him, their hearts drumming erratically to the same beat. And he loves to be the one to hold Keith up.

They kiss for a long time, well into the night. 

When it’s time for bed, Keith slips away without a goodnight kiss, but he returns after a few minutes dressed only in loose boxers. As Shiro brushes his teeth, Keith slips into his bed and settles amongst the pillows on the far side. 

Once Shiro slips under the covers himself, Keith wiggles his way across the massive bed to give Shiro his kiss goodnight, and then he wiggles himself back.

Shiro, incidentally, has one of the best sleeps of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYO!!! I'm so happy to be posting this chapter!! I think it's my fav. Honestly, the conversation with Keith at the end makes me emotional every time I read it. <3<3 I love them and their growing bond!
> 
> Like, as much as this fic is straight to sexy times (though, I guess, without real pay off... whoops!) in my head it's a slow burn? Just because it's about their developing relationship as much as it is about driving Shiro insane with Keith's sex powers. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> I'm hoping the people who have been worried about Shiro being too self-sacrificing can kind of see what he's doing here? Because up till now, Keith still hasn't been getting it. He's still thinking in terms of transactions, and Shiro's not about to reinforce that by giving in. This is a bit of turning point for our guys and their relationship. Though, there will still be blue balls.
> 
> Also... is 1 mil enough to cover school and living expenses for 4 years in the states?????? I tried my best to google it, and I figured that'd cover like, an ivy league school? But like, I honestly have no idea how american money works, and especially not tuition and living expenses of a student. I was tempted to make it 2 mil, just to be sure lol. 
> 
> Hints for next chapters: Keith is spoiled and demands ice cream.
> 
> Please shower me in more love in the form of kudos and comments! I adore every single one, and save them all to gush over on sad days. Also, feel free to follow me on the stuff. I do quite a few tweet threads on twitter these days. And someday I might even organize them into something easy to find/read.  
> Twitter: [@WTuesdays](https://twitter.com/WTuesdays)  
> Tumblr: [WatermelonTuesdays](https://watermelontuesdays.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I love you all! <3<3<3


	11. Take Me Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro takes Keith for some ice cream.

Keith starts sleeping in Shiro's bed each night. And slowly, his clothes start to take up space in Shiro's closet. He starts to treat the penthouse like it really is his house, inviting Lance and Hunk over for game nights and dinners, and leaving his dirty socks on the bathroom floor for Shiro to pick up in the mornings. 

It’s amazing!

Shiro is elated at every new step in their relationship. Every sign of Keith's growing comfort makes his heart heavy with joy. 

They fall into a steady rhythm. They text during work, have supper together, watch movies or play video games, Keith torments Shiro a little, and they go to bed. Some days are different, they go out shopping or to a restaurant. Keith seems to be looking forward to turning 21, so he can make Shiro bring him to all the best clubs in town, shower him in expensive drinks, and show him off on the dance floor. 

It's more than a year away, but that just makes it all the more exciting for Shiro because it means Keith's planning ahead. He's planning a life for them. 

Even if it doesn't come to pass, it warms Shiro to know that right now, this is what Keith wants.

Not that Keith has any problem telling Shiro what he wants.

“It’s been so long since you took me out, daddy. Don’t you want to spoil me anymore?” 

Shiro looks down to where Keith is laid out on the couch, his head resting in Shiro’s lap while Shiro strokes slowly through his hair. Shiro tries to look exasperated at his young love, but he fails miserably. 

“Don’t I spoil you enough, sweetheart?”

Keith shakes his head, and then grins mischievously at the small grunt Shiro gives at the movement. Really, Shiro should know better by now than to let Keith anywhere near his crotch.

“Take me for ice cream.” 

“Ice cream?” Shiro arches a brow. 

Keith nods, and Shiro regrets playing along with the boy’s whims. He’s so sensitive, and Keith’s head is just the right amount of heavy and warm. If he keeps moving like that, Shiro won’t be fit to go anywhere. 

“Where do you want to go for ice cream?”

Keith shrugs and sits up. He twirls in place, his feet curled up on the couch so he can stick his bare toes under Shiro’s leg. 

“There was this place back in Arizona by the elementary school that sold homemade ice cream. They used to have the best rocky road, they swirled in their own homemade marshmallow fluff. It…” Keith’s eyes flick up briefly to meet Shiro’s before darting away. “It was really good.”

“Sounds delicious.”

“It was,” Keith says enthusiastically. “But um… we can just get normal ice cream.”

Shiro purses his lips as he thinks things through. It only takes him a moment to decide.

“Yup,” he says, slapping his knees before lifting himself from the couch. “Let’s go.” He turns and eyes Keith’s Friday evening attire: sweatpants and a tank. “Put on something cute.”

Keith gives Shiro a suspicious side eye. “How cute.”

“Cute. But comfy. But cute.” Shiro leaves the entertainment room and heads for the office. “I’ll be there in a second.”

He meets Keith at the door about 5 minutes later. Keith is looking both cute and comfy in his red sweater and ripped jeans. He looks even cuter when Shiro pulls out a leather jacket and helps him into it, his cheeks blushing pink as Shiro holds the collar together and pulls Keith up for a quick kiss. 

It’s nice to kiss Keith when he wants now. Shiro still asks most times, especially when he wants to really _kiss_ the boy. But these little sweet things between them? He’s been given free reign to be as sweet as he likes with Keith, and it’s wonderful.

He leads Keith out of the penthouse by the hand. They take the elevator down to the underground garage and Shiro takes Keith over to his motorcycle. 

Keith’s eyes light up as they approach, and he drops Shiro’s hand to run the last few steps, drawing his hands along the sleek exterior.

“Are we taking her?” he’s near breathless with excitement. 

Shiro just nods, and then chuckles as Keith jumps on and grips the handlebars. He looks good with a bike between his legs.

There’s a shelf set at the front of the bike’s parking space, and Shiro pulls down his black helmet and the red one he bought for Keith. 

Keith catches the helmet as Shiro tosses it, then pouts when Shiro gestures for Keith to move back so Shiro can drive.

“Can’t I drive her?” Keith asks. He gives puppy eyes and squeezes his legs against the bike like he can seduce Shiro into letting him drive. Which… will 100% work. Shiro is a sucker, and of _course_ Keith can do that.

“You don’t know where we’re going,” Shiro answers, putting his own helmet on quickly before he loses his resolve.

The bike revs to life beneath them and Keith’s arms wrap around Shiro’s waist, holding tight. Shiro really is living the dream.

He drives slow; it’s nearly the end of October now, and the chill has settled near-permanently into the air. He takes Keith out to the edge of town to a big metal building set out in the middle of nowhere. 

“Where are we?” Keith asks as he swings his leg off the bike. “Are you finally going to kill me?”

Shiro laughs at the joke, and bangs on the massive garage door in front of them. Just two short thumps, and then, like magic, the whole door lifts slowly up. 

Keith’s eyes are wide and adorable, his jaw is dropped, his shock is evident. Behind the massive door is a line of airplanes. They’re small by commercial standards, but big enough all lined up like that. There’re all different kinds, from a little seaplane with the boat-like landing gear, to old recommissioned fighters, to a comfortable private jet. 

Ulaz, the owner of the hangar, is waiting in his office to the side, and Shiro speaks with him briefly about flight plans and return times. He slips the man two crisp hundred-dollar bills for coming back in for him this late on a Friday evening, then he returns to Keith and the bike. 

“Which one’s yours?” Keith asks as they start to move again. His head is on a swivel as he takes in each of the 7 or so planes docked in the hangar. 

“Guess,” Shiro prompts.

Keith gives him a flat look and gestures to the end, “That big monstrosity?”

He does a good job of sounding unimpressed despite the fact that Shiro can clearly see the boy’s eyes practically popping out of his skull. 

“Yeah, that’s one of them.”

“ _One_ of them!?” Keith swings around, arms wide, “Are these _all_ yours?”

Shiro laughs. That good, big, belly kind of a laugh that makes his whole body feel light as air. 

“No, no, just two.”

He points to a small single prop plane, Lion, sitting across from his big, show-off jet, The Atlas. The little plane is squat and sturdy, with just enough space for three seats and a cargo hold. It’s an adventuring machine, as well as a charitable works machine (dropping off care packages, helping search for lost hikers, etc). But Shiro doesn’t say all that, because some things come off as bragging in the wrong way.

“Riiiight. _Just_ two,” Keith drawls sarcastically. It charms another good laugh out of Shiro. “So who’s that guy back there? Your personal plane chauffeur?”

“Ha,” Shiro scoffs, “as if I’d let Ulaz fly The Atlas. No, tonight it’s just you and me, baby.” Shiro wiggles his eyebrows down at Keith.

He leads Keith over to The Atlas and together they push his bike up into her cargo hold and strap it down good and tight. Then Shiro does his rounds, checking Atlas for any flaws (there are none, because she’s a good, good girl), checking fuel levels and the readings in the cockpit.

Keith follows him like a shadow, watching every little motion Shiro makes. His gaze is raptor-sharp, like he’s committing it all to memory.

Though it’s not until they’re settled in the cockpit, with Keith in his co-pilots chair (which… Shiro must admit, he likes that _a lot_ ), that Keith realizes he’s missing some important details.

“Wait… aren’t we supposed to be getting ice cream?” he asks.

Shiro grins and starts to taxi out onto the runway. 

It’s nearly 4 hours to fly to Arizona, but with the time difference they have plenty of time before the ice cream shop closes. They come in on a little landing strip just outside Keith’s hometown of Garrison, at an ex-military hangar where Ulaz has already negotiated them space to dock The Atlas for the night. 

They ease Shiro’s bike down the plank to the cracked old edge of tarmac where they’ve parked and wait for the owner to meet them by the plane.

While they wait, Keith leans into Shiro’s space, making sure Shiro catches the gleam of his eye in the evening light. 

“So, when can I fly her?” he asks sweetly, fluttering his lashes in the cool dessert air. 

Shiro’s hand fits neatly into the crook of Keith’s shoulder so his fingers can curl into the warm hair at the base of Keith’s neck. 

“When you get your license.”

Keith swings a hip and leans more heavily against Shiro.

“Can’t I just fly a little on our way home? I won’t tell. I promise.” He looks up at Shiro with those big doe eyes of his and a pout that he knows can get him out of a murder charge. 

Thankfully, Shiro doesn’t have to be so strong as to refuse that pout, because a moment later they’re interrupted by the approach of the owner.

He’s a big man, taller than Shiro and broader. He has a darkly serious expression as he looks the booth of them over. 

Shiro pulls Keith around a little rougher than me means to under the watch of that heavy gaze from this stranger. 

“Kolivan,” the man says, reaching out his hand to Shiro. 

“Takashi Shirogane,” Shiro says, shifting into his more commanding office-voice as he shakes Kolivan’s hand firmly. “This is Keith.”

Then something astounding happens. 

Keith kicks the toe of his boot on the gravel and says a low, “Hey Kolivan.”

“Keith,” Kolivan recognizes, “It’s good to see you.” He says it with absolutely no emotion, but judging by the awkward smile Keith gives him, Shiro doesn’t think it’s due to any hostility between them.

There’s a long moment of silence, and Shiro feels the need to fill it. “I hope it’s ok to park here for the night. Ulaz said it was good to go.” 

“Yes. You’re fine here. Not many use this strip these days now that the garrison has a new one. If you’ll follow me to sign a few documents, you can be on your way.”

“Lead the way.”

They leave Keith behind and walk off to Kolivan’s office. They sign a few quick forms, liability agreements, terms and conditions of leaving a multi-million-dollar machine with a stranger.

Though, apparently, he’s not as much a stranger as Shiro believed.

Shiro isn’t the one to bring it up. He doesn’t go picking into Keith’s past unprompted, and especially not without Keith in the room. But once the papers are signed, Kolivan clears his throat and shifts his gaze away in much the same way Keith likes to when the going gets awkward.

“I noticed you’re in the company of the Kogane boy,” he says.

“Yes.” 

Kolivan’s lips twitch is something that could be liberally described as a smile. “That boy was always trouble. But he’s a good kid.”

Shiro does smile at that. “Not much has changed, then.”

“And your relationship is…?” Kolivan leaves the question hanging.

Shiro isn’t about to say ‘he’s my mistress’ but it’s a little tempting, just to see the man’s reaction. “Romantic, yes.” Technically speaking, they’ve never had a conversation about labels, though Shiro has taken to calling Keith his boyfriend and his partner alternately at work. 

“Hmpf,” Kolivan grunts with a nod and gestures to the door for Shiro to let himself out. 

Back at the plane, Keith is waiting on the bike with his helmet on and the motor idling. 

“Hop on old timer,” he teases, throwing Shiro his helmet. “This is my town, so I get to drive.”

“Yes sir,” Shiro accepts happily. He slides onto the seat behind Keith and fits himself firmly against the boy’s round bottom. He holds Keith tight, partly because he can, and partly because he knows Keith won’t be any less of a speed demon on a bike than he is in a car. 

Sure enough, they make it to the ice cream parlour in record time, the tires screeching to a halt as they pull into their place. 

Luckily, it’s late evening in the middle of October, so there’s not a lot of people there to give them dirty looks for the noise. 

Keith gets his rocky road ice cream in a sundae with warmed brownies and heaps of whipped cream. Shiro gets a banana split with strawberry syrup and extra cherries that turns out to be made to share with about three people. The thing is massive, and Keith teases Shiro the whole time about being too desperate for bananas and needing to calm down and pace himself before he takes more than he can swallow. 

They stay for over an hour, and in the end, Keith has to help Shiro polish off the banana split because “I am better at sucking down bananas, after all.”

“How am I to judge? My bananas have all gone un-sucked to date,” Shiro teases with a wicked grin.

Retribution is swift and painful.

Somehow! Keith is able to get his foot out of his boot in a matter of seconds, and he uses that foot to torment Shiro under the table. He settles it in Shiro’s lap, using his toes and the side of his foot to feel Shiro out. 

“Keith,” Shiro warns darkly, grip tightening on his little plastic spoon. 

“What?” Keith asks innocently. “I’m just illustrating some of my skills with bananas.” He moves his foot to cover the full of Shiro’s growing need and rolls gently, making Shiro bite his cheek to keep from moaning in the middle of a nearly deserted ice cream shop. 

Fuck, Shiro can’t do this.

He’s a literal billionaire. He’s the CEO of one of the highest grossing companies in the entire world. He cannot get hard over a half-assed foot job in an ice cream parlour in Arizona!

Shiro does the only thing he can think to combat Keith’s troublemaker ways – redirect him. So, he slips his hand under the table and takes Keith’s foot. He lifts it up so it rests on top of his thigh rather than nestled between his legs, and he digs his thumb firmly into the arch of Keith’s foot. It’s a bit awkward to give a one-handed foot massage in public, but it’s far preferable to a public erection. 

“You’re no fun,” Keith pouts as Shiro methodically cracks each of his toes through his sock. 

“I’m buckets of fun,” Shiro argues. He lifts the last bite up to Keith’s mouth and watches those sharp teeth descend over the spoon before pink lips wrap around and suck it clean. It’s quick as anything, but Shiro’s thirst makes it run in slow motion. 

He hurries Keith out of the shop shortly after, pressing and touching and pulling Keith this way and that as they leave. He can’t help himself. 

“Now where to?” Keith asks, leaning back against the bike like a pin-up in a magazine. 

Shiro makes a low noise of appreciation and closes in, his hands finding Keith’s hips and chin on autopilot. His “can I kiss you,” is a mere breath over Keith’s lips, and Keith’s answer is to pitch himself forward and swallow Shiro whole. 

Though it’s only just getting dark enough to be called ‘night’ in Arizona, it’s quite late back home, and the chill isn’t getting any better as night sets in. Their kiss doesn’t last nearly as long as Shiro would like it to, but he’s a patient man.

He lets Keith drive them to the best hotel in town. It’s not much by Shiro’s standards, but it has all the necessities, including a President’s Suite with a jacuzzi and full room service. 

The suite is on the top floor, overlooking the small military town. 

“You’re something else, Shiro,” Keith chuckles as they enter their suite. “Do you ever do anything like a normal person?”

He steps up to the window to get a look at their private balcony and the jacuzzi steaming in the night air. Shiro comes up behind the boy and wraps himself around Keith’s back. Keith leans back into Shiro’s arms like a puzzle piece, fitting so perfectly Shiro can just rest his chin on Keith’s head.

“Do you want me to act like a normal person?”

Keith is silent for a moment. He releases a breath almost like a sigh. “No. I like you just like this.” 

Shiro squeezes Keith tighter, looking out the window and down at the city Keith once called home.

“Do you miss it here?” Shiro tilts his head just a little, just enough to hold his cheek against Keith’s hair and speak softly into Keith’s ear.

They’re swaying together now, slow and gentle, almost like dancing. But softer. Better.

“Sometimes?” Keith tilts his head like he’s looking for a kiss and Shiro obliges with a soft peck to his temple. “Not really. I didn’t have friends here till junior year, and I followed them when they left for school. I have a few things I miss, a few good memories, but…” Keith shrugs, then he puts his hands over Shiro’s arms and pulls Shiro closer, like he’s wrapping himself tight in a blanket, “nothing like how you make me feel.”

Shiro melts. 

He doesn’t cry but it’s a near thing. He loves this boy – and he knows it’s stupid to say that, but it’s not as stupid to think it, so Shiro lets the thought beat about his chest for a while. He lets it ring through his veins, flooding every vital organ with love for Keith.

“Nothing’s ever made me feel like you make me feel,” Shiro says into the curve of Keith’s ear. He pecks a little kiss there once he’s done. 

Keith’s smile reflects in the glass before them. “What, blue-balled?”

Shiro snorts a laugh and it tosses some of Keith’s flyaway hairs around. “That too.”

There’s a tilt to Keith’s hips then, just a subtle change that has him pressing back against Shiro is a far more pointed way than he was a moment before. They keep swaying, but Keith’s hips do a much better job, pushing him backwards and rolling his body across Shiro. 

Keith takes Shiro’s hands and trails them down his tight body until Shiro is holding over Keith’s hip bones, feeling the sharp cut of bone and the muscle as he continues to sway back into Shiro. Shiro nuzzles down into Keith and kisses just behind his ear. The scent of strawberry and _Keith_ is overwhelming.

Slowly, Keith draws a hand back to stroke at the short hairs at the base of Shiro’s skull. It sends shivers up Shiro’s spine. Such a simple touch, but it does so much to the man. 

“We should get naked,” Keith says lightly. Like he’s not upending Shiro’s world with a sentence.

“Yeah?” It’s maybe too good to be true, but Shiro can’t keep the blind hope out of his voice. He’s wanted Keith from the moment he laid eyes on the boy, and he can’t help but tumble headfirst into every trap Keith sets.

“Yeah,” Keith stops his swaying and tilts his hips up and back, pushing firmly against Shiro’s growing need. Shiro groans into Keith’s hair and chews along the line of his throat. 

Keith’s hands move Shiro’s just a little. Just enough to slip Shiro’s hands under the fabric of his shirt. It’s all the instruction Shiro needs before he’s peeling Keith out of it.

“Can I touch you?” Shiro’s voice is a hot rasp against Keith’s skin and the boy hums his assent, leaning further against Shiro’s chest to give Shiro leave to run his hands down Keith’s torso. He maps over the smooth, unscarred skin with his hands. He can see the goosebumps raise along Keith’s arm from the coolness of Shiro’s prosthetic hand and the lightness of the touch. 

“Unzip me.” 

Shiro’s fingers tremble to comply. 

He only just gets the button unsnapped and the zipper down before Keith is pulling away. He’s turning and pawing at Shiro until all of Shiro’s clothes are in a heap on the floor.

Shiro is naked in the middle of their suite, and he’s hard as a rock and high on Keith. He reaches for Keith’s pants buckle to draw him close then pushes the waistband of Keith’s pants down just a fraction of an inch, the question in his eye. 

Keith nods and helps Shiro pull them down and off. 

Then they’re both naked, and Keith is grabbing at Shiro, pulling him forward, and… leading him out the door..?

“K-Keith...” Shiro questions as Keith pulls open the wide glass doors to the balcony and steps out into the frigid October air.

It wasn’t frigid earlier, when they were fully clothed and the sun has only just set, but it sure is now. Not even the sight of Keith’s perfect ass can keep Shiro’s erection from flagging in this cold. Not to mention the embarrassment of being naked outside. Shiro’s hand can only cover so much.

“Come on, Shiro,” Keith taunts, pulling him forward.

They pass a timer for the jacuzzi on the way and Keith cranks it as far as it will go and steps into the warm water. 

Shiro follows suit and lowers himself into the heated water. The water banishes the cold and Shiro’s self-conscious concerns about being seen. They’re high above the small city, there’s no one to see. 

No one but Keith.

Keith looks beautiful, sitting in the steamy water, his hair already starting to curl around his delicate features. His eyes reflect the light of the stars.

It’s hokey – it’s _so_ impossibly corny – but Shiro can see his future in those eyes. It’s a future he doesn’t want to miss, even for a second.

Shiro reaches out his hand and immediately Keith takes it in his own. Keith floats through the water as if he’s being eddied by the jets. He bobs to Shiro’s side, then slides into Shiro’s lap with his legs drawn out in a long line along the seat. Keith’s arm wraps around Shiro’s shoulders while Shiro’s hands find spots along Keith’s back and over his knees. 

His eyes are even more breathtaking up close. 

“Thank you for the ice cream,” Keith says. There’s hint of a tease in the words, but Shiro recognizes the edge of humour as a defense mechanism.

“You’re welcome,” Shiro replies, with all sincerity. 

Slowly, Keith relaxes in Shiro’s grasp, resting his head on Shiro’s shoulder and lets his body go slack under Shiro’s hands. 

They don’t say much, but they don’t have to.

Shiro is plenty happy to sit naked in the hot water with Keith in his lap and stare out into the night sky. The small desert town has surprisingly mild light pollution, and the stars shine bright and plentiful. They twinkle and dance above the two lovers.

Keith’s heartbeat pounds a steady beat against Shiro’s chest. 

Everything is quiet except for the whir of the jets.

Until: “Kolivan was a friend of my father’s. He, uh… he helped me out of a couple scrapes after dad… passed….”

It’s the first time Keith’s ever mentioned his father, though Shiro had pieced together enough from passing comments about group homes and foster families to know that there was _some_ story there. Shiro doesn’t know exactly what to say, this doesn’t seem like the time to open Keith’s old wounds.

“He seems like a good man, Kolivan.”

“He is. He couldn’t take me in, but… you could tell he still cared, you know?”

If Shiro could shield Keith from every hurt – if he could surround Keith in only those good people who care – he would. Shiro would do it in an instant.

They lapse into another long silence. And then…

“Today’s my birthday.” Keith whispers it so quietly, Shiro hardly makes it out over the sound of the jets.

Shiro kisses Keith’s head and holds him a little tighter.

“I know,” he whispers into Keith’s hair.

“Thank you for the ice cream.”

There’s a wavering in Keith’s voice now. A thinness. A fragility. 

Shiro’s never heard anything so beautiful and heartbreaking in his life. 

“You’re welcome, Keith.”

If Shiro’s shoulder gets extra wet while they sit there together, he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t say anything because he knows Keith will hate it if he tries. So, he just holds Keith tight and kisses him softly again and again until everything is all right.

Keith sleeps in Shiro’s arms that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading I hope you like! 
> 
> MAN those stupid banana jokes killed me a little. So dumb. But I had to do it.
> 
> Also, sorry (?) (not sorry) for the punch of emotions at the end there. But don't worry! Next chapter we have *checks notes* more emotions! For those wondering, Shiro is a weirdo and basically memorized Keith's license info back in chapter 1, that's why he knows it's Keith's birthday without being told. (It's a good thing Keith likes Shiro in this fic, because this Shiro has the money and resources to be a grade A stalker lol)
> 
> Thank you for your continued enjoyment of my 100% self-indulgent fic. Your comments give me life! <3<3 I love each and every one of you so much!
> 
> And, as always, you can follow me on social media if you want. Pick twitter if you want threads and me sharing other (mostly Sheith) content. Pick tumblr if you just want to see me post new chapters/fics.  
> Twitter: [@WTuesdays](https://twitter.com/WTuesdays)  
> Tumblr: [WatermelonTuesdays](https://watermelontuesdays.tumblr.com/)


	12. Wake Up Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith shows Shiro around his old stomping grounds.

In the morning, Keith is more determined than ever to break Shiro. 

Shiro wakes up with Keith sitting on his lap, grinding him awake with strong, sure movements. Shiro’s wet in his pants. He’s so close to busting it throws him awake and for a moment he doesn’t know where he is or which way’s up, but he feels _so, so good!_

He can hear a sound like whimpering and as he comes back to himself, he realizes it’s him. Shiro is making the noise. 

Shiro doesn’t waste any time wondering where he is or trying to remember their trip to Arizona. All he knows is Keith.

Keith, Keith! Beautiful Keith!

Devilish Keith with hips that will lead a man to sin. And a grin that’s twice as wicked.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” 

Keith makes one, long, heavy twist of his hips and goes still. He sits, grinning, unmoving over Shiro’s cock.

Shiro is seconds from blowing a load but the steady pressure is not enough. He needs more. He needs Keith to move again. 

He fists his hands into the blankets. It’s the only way to keep from grabbing Keith’s hips and finishing the job himself. Or flipping the boy over and rutting himself against every inch of skin he can find until Keith is plastered head to toe in Shiro’s release. Or…

“Fuck, Keith,” Shiro whines. 

“Is that what you want?” Keith asks, “Are you going to tell me to fuck you, daddy?” Keith bites his lips. Shiro has to press the heel of his hands into his eyes to keep that image from burning into his brain. Keith is too much. Far, far too much. And Shiro is only so strong.

But that’s not the game. Shiro doesn’t tell. He doesn’t give orders. He’s waiting for Keith to ask.

Shiro bites his cheek and whimpers. He shakes his head into the pillows, and even though he can’t see anything but the back of his eyelids, he can _feel_ Keith’s wicked smirk.

It’s so, so tempting to take control. He knows Keith’s hard and wanting, just like himself. He _could_ just take…. But no!

Of course, Shiro isn’t perfect. He tries to move his hips, rock himself against Keith’s weight, but Keith anticipates the move. In one easy curl of his body, Keith rolls to the side, leaving Shiro panting and wanting.

“No, no, no. Puh-” Shiro bites his tongue to stop the plea forming in his mouth. 

He must look distressed because Keith runs a soothing hand through Shiro’s sweaty hair and coos at him.

“What’s that, daddy? Were you saying ‘please’? Hmm…”

Shiro groans a long desperate note. “I want you so bad.” His hips work the air for a moment, offering no release and filling his body with a surge of restless energy. Christ, just give him a pillow to rut against and he’ll burst in a second! Just anything!

“What do you want, Shiro? Tell me what you want. You know I’ll do anything you say.”

Shiro groans again, this time with more frustration. Not at Keith, but at himself. He’s fighting himself because the offer is so damn tempting. And he wants it! He wants to order Keith onto bent knees and stuff that pretty little mouth full until Keith’s frothing – gagging on his cock. But he _can’t_!

“I want whatever you want.”

“What I want…” Keith murmurs, leaning close. He draws the back of his nail lightly along the bulge of Shiro’s sleep pants, making Shiro’s cock jump and blurt out a dribble of precum. The touch is gone as quickly as it came, and then Keith’s hands land around Shiro’s ears and drag him into a passionate kiss.

Their mouths are a little foul from sleep, but Shiro eats it up. He’s far too gone to care about something like that. Keith licks deep into Shiro’s mouth and sucks on Shiro’s lips and tongue, he bites exactly how Shiro likes.

When he pulls back, there’s a thick string of spittle between them that Keith wipes away. Shiro’s too busy trying to regain focus. He can barely see, and he can’t think at all. There’s nothing in the world except for Keith, those blue eyes and cherry-kissed lips just inches from Shiro’s face. 

“I want to take a shower.” 

Shiro’s nodding before he even parses the statement. Shower. Yes. Naked, water, good. All good. “Yeah,” he responds slowly.

“Yeah?” Keith smiles. It’s sweet, but also a touch ironic and Shiro doesn’t understand why until Keith’s already moving, swinging himself off the bed and pushing Shiro back down into the mattress. “You get some rest out here, daddy. You look like you need it.”

He gives a glancing kiss of Shiro’s forehead before he dances into the bathroom, hips swinging as he walks.

For his part, Shiro rolls his hands into fists, closes his eyes, and works on some deep breathing exercises he’s picked up over the years. He lies there until his heart stops pounding and his blood returns to the rest of his extremities. 

Sometimes, being so damn stick-to-your-guns moralistic has its drawbacks. 

They spend the day on a tour of Keith’s hometown. There’s not a lot, but Keith manages to find a few general points of interest. Shiro is adequately impressed by the Garrison Museum down beneath the legion, though he’s far happier to see Keith’s high school and some of his old haunts growing up. Some of them are alley ways and decrepit playgrounds, but they’re a part of Keith and therefore a thousand times more captivating.

After lunch they wander some of the downtown shops, and Keith takes particular delight in parading Shiro past some of the old popular kids and having Shiro buy him everything he points to. 

(Even Shiro will admit, it gives him a kick to see the way Keith’s old classmates’ jaws drop to the ground with each subsequent purchase. Though it is nothing compared to the thrill of Keith’s coy smile as he makes a show of stepping in far too close every time he asks Shiro for another gift.)

Something is changing in the air between them as they go about town. Something electric and charged.

Not that they haven’t always been electric, but there’s something more now. Something in the way Keith’s eyes heat when he steps into Shiro’s space. Something about the way his hands find Shiro’s biceps, his pecs, his shoulders, even his buttocks whenever they speak. Something in the way the world drops out of existence as soon as they catch eyes.

Shiro can tell Keith feels it too. He’s not imaging this. Things are different, and he thinks the difference is in Keith. Shiro doesn’t know what, or how, or when, but something he’s said or done seems to have unlocked something in Keith. 

Call it love (Shiro would _love_ to call it love!). Call it trust. Call it chemistry. 

Keith has accepted Shiro. It’s been growing for a while now, slowly, but today it’s like the last piece has fallen into place. 

Shiro spends the day on cloud nine, wandering the town with Keith. He’s more than happy to let Keith drive him this way and that. There’s plenty Keith isn’t showing him, Shiro is sure, but anything is enough for Shiro. 

So, just before sunset, when Keith starts taking them down that same old strip of highway they came in on last night, Shiro just assumes their tour is over and Keith’s returning them to their plane. But that’s not the case. 

Keith keeps driving past the hangar and down the road until pavement turns to rocks which turns to dust. 

There, in the middle of nowhere, is a little wooden shack. 

More of a shed, really. 

Keith parks under an old dried-out tree and gets off the bike. Up a little closer, Shiro can see that it is a shed. There’s a short edge of old foundation set in a square not far from the shed; it’s the shape of a house, and suddenly the picture starts to make sense. 

Keith looks out over the empty space where there was once a house, holding his elbow in his hand like he’s giving himself a half-hug. He’s turned away from Shiro, but the profile of his face is the picture of far off contemplation. 

Shiro eases up to Keith’s side and just taps Keith’s arm, lightly, with the back of his finger. He’s not sure if this is a touch moment or a no-touch moment, and he doesn’t want to disturb whatever’s going on in Keith’s distant eyes. Immediately, Keith reaches out and bumps the back of his hand against Shiro’s arm. 

That’s all the approval Shiro needs to initiate contact. He steps closer and wraps his arm over Keith’s shoulder, pulling the boy in close and tight.

They stand together for a long time in complete silence, Keith just mapping the barren land like he can see what once stood there. It’s not exactly thrilling for Shiro, but he can read between the lines. Obviously, this place means a lot to Keith, and taking Shiro here means something special. So Shiro commits what little there is here to memory, while the sky behind them turns everything gold and bright from the sunset. 

“I lived here,” Keith says at long last. Voicing the words makes him shiver and Shiro tightens his grip. “This… was my home. That spot over there?” he gestures to the far corner, “That was my bedroom. I used to get the sun in my windows every morning, and dad had these old coloured bottles sat in the window, so they’d make rainbows on the wall over my bed.”

Keith’s voice cracks as he speaks, and he sniffs loudly. 

“That sounds nice.” It’s a stupid thing to say, Shiro knows, but he means it, and it’s all he can think of. 

“It was,” Keith agrees, unphased by Shiro’s lameness. “It was really, really nice.” He sniffs again and wipes at his eyes. “It was just him and me, you know: The Kogane boys against the world.”

Shiro doesn’t want to press, he doesn’t want to push – but, clearly, there’s more to this story. And this is the perfect place to ask. So, in the gentlest, softest voice he can manage, Shiro asks, “What happened?”

“He was a firefighter. And… he didn’t make it home one night.” Keith shivers again then turns and buries his face in Shiro’s shoulder. He nuzzles under the open zipper of Shiro’s jacket to press in against the soft fabric of Shiro’s shirt. Shiro can feel the fabric grow damp with tears. 

This is entirely new territory, and Shiro still doesn’t know what to say, but he holds Keith against him, feeling tender and protective as the young boy cries for a life he once had. He covers Keith’s head with his cheek, doing his best to surround Keith in affection, and murmurs a soft “It’s ok.”

And maybe it’s inappropriate – or conceited – but here in the golden light of sunset, with Keith in his arms, it feels right. It feels like Shiro’s where he’s supposed to be. He’s happy to be here and experience this side of Keith, to see the boy’s emotions, to hold him through an echo of the grief he must have felt that night his father never came home. 

When he’s done, Keith looks up at Shiro with swollen, red, bloodshot eyes and says, “Take me home, Shiro.”

Shiro holds Keith all the way back to the bike. He drives, with Keith holding on tight behind.

At the hangar, Keith ducks his head out from Kolivan’s gaze and pushes the bike back onto the plane himself, strapping it in just like Shiro showed him the night before. Shiro spends a few minutes with Kolivan working out the flight plan and paying for the fuel Kolivan used to fill Atlas. 

“These were dropped off for you.” Kolivan is completely unamused as he points to a crate full of their purchases. Shiro had paid quite a bit to have them all sent to the hangar, but it was either that or try to hold all the parcels on their laps.

Shiro laughs nervously under Kolivan’s unimpressed stare. 

“Thanks. We, uh, did some shopping.”

Awkwardness hangs between them for a moment, and Shiro wonders at the best way to take the crate and bolt.

“I saw you came in from the south-east,” Kolivan says.

“We did.”

Kolivan’s eyes scan Shiro, and Shiro wonders whether the damp patch on his shirt is visible. “Hmm,” Kolivan grunts. “I didn’t think Keith would ever go there again.” He inspects Shiro for another moment, then picks up the crate in his arms and carries it out to the Atlas. 

Keith is wearing a pair of Shiro’s aviators that hide his eyes when they return (a _very_ good look for him) and he’s grinning and cheeky as Kolivan drops the crate in their cargo hold and Shiro straps it down.

“So, you’re going to let me fly on the way home, right?” he asks, grinning and biting his tongue.

“No.” Shiro catches an angry look from Kolivan, “ _No._ You’re not.” 

“Come on, just a little? I bet I fly her better than you do.”

It’s not fair. Keith knows competition is one of Shiro weaknesses. One of many. With Keith being his #1.

“You wish,” Shiro grumbles. He reaches out and musses Keith’s hair, because it’s impossible not to touch him when he’s being cute like this, and his hair is the most appropriate place to touch in Kolivan’s presence. “We’ll get you a flying license and then I’ll show you a thing or two.”

Kolivan walks away without a word and they get underway. 

If Shiro explains everything he does as he taxis out onto the runway and takes off, it’s only for Keith’s future knowledge. And if he caves and lets Keith control the plane for 5 minutes while they’re in open air and nowhere near anything that could mess them up – well, nobody will know so long as neither of them tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter come and gone! Yay!! 
> 
> I hope the emotions were to your liking. I teared up when I wrote the shack scene. My poor baby Keef <3<3 
> 
> And the hint of somno! Gotta love Shiro waking up to a lapful of Keith. 
> 
> Hint for next chapter: they have a much needed conversation.
> 
> Thank you as always for reading and enjoying and commenting and kudosing. It really makes my day! <3<3<3 And you can follow me for fun on twitter and fic updates on tumblr.  
> Twitter: [@WTuesdays](https://twitter.com/WTuesdays)  
> Tumblr: [WatermelonTuesdays](https://watermelontuesdays.tumblr.com/)


	13. Dreams, Naps, and Competitions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Shiro and Keith do not leave their bed.

Shiro is dreaming about Keith.

He knows he’s dreaming because Keith’s clothes evaporate the moment he steps within Shiro’s reach. He knows it because Keith is urging Shiro on with soft whispered words of “yes,” and “come on, Shiro, give it to me” and “take me.” 

But everything else feels so real, so good and warm, that Shiro forgets it’s a dream almost as soon as he thinks it. 

He’s lost in Keith. In the scent of his hair, the feel of his skin. Keith’s body is warm and wrapped around him. He sinks into Keith’s hot flesh like he’s coming home; he’s gasping Keith’s name and “I love you” over and over, like a chant, a mantra straight from the heart.

It’s beautiful, and Shiro can’t believe it’s actually happening. That Keith is all his own.

No tricks. No teasing. No fanfare.

Just two bodies wrapped around each other, stoking each others’ flames until they burn themselves out in each other.

Shiro is whimpering into Keith’s shoulders when Keith finally wakes him.

Waking is a strange confusion. For a few moments, he’s still in his dream even as he knows he isn’t. They’re in their bed, and though Keith is in Shiro’s arms, it’s not the same.

“Shiro, Shiro wake up,” Keith sounds close to laughter as Shiro makes several ugly, confused sounds.

Keith _is_ hot under his hands, just like in the dream. But they’re not having sex. 

No, Shiro is rutting himself against Keith’s ass. 

Like a horny teenager.

“Enjoying yourself, daddy?” Keith asks, when he sees the clarity in Shiro’s eyes sink in.

Shiro shudders and it takes great effort not to resume rocking his hips and just rutting himself to completion against Keith’s leg. 

“Don’t call me that,” Shiro’s voice is rough and sounds far more dangerous than he means it to. “I’ll burst.”

“What if I want you to burst?”

Keith turns as he speaks, and for a moment, Shiro can’t see anything past those soft little lips. When he finally drags his gaze away, he sees desire burning bright in Keith’s eyes, equal to that burning in Shiro’s.

“Daddy?”

Shiro is rough as he pulls Keith forwards into a crushing kiss. It’s teeth and tongue, it’s wet and noisy, and Shiro groans like he’s trying to devour Keith rather than kiss him. But Keith meets his pace, teeth dragging along Shiro’s bottom lip and pulling. 

Keith’s leg burrows between Shiro’s and they both hiss as they slot together. 

Their hands pry at each others’ sleep clothes, they grip and hold and scratch at each other. They’re completely lost to the moment, to the heat between them.

Distantly, in the only part of Shiro’s brain capable of thought, Shiro celebrates. This is it. This has to be. He’s finally going to have Keith the way he really wants. They’re finally going to cross that line.

They’re burning too bright now to ever be stopped.

Shiro doesn’t even hear his weak “please” until he’s said it at least four times. Moaned like the prayer of a dying man. 

“Please what, daddy?”

Shiro nearly sobs. “Please, Keith! Tell me what you want. Please, please baby. Tell me. Let me. God, please.” They hardly slow their kisses, so Shiro’s words are garbled with tongue and lips, but his message gets across all the same.

A hand, pushing and scratching at Shiro’s chest, moves Shiro onto his back and Keith is crawling up after him. 

“Touch me, daddy.” 

Keith straddles one of Shiro’s thick thighs and he rocks himself down, hard against it. His silk boxers ease the glide between them, and they tent and stain in the front from Keith’s erection. His chest is bare and beautiful, just as always.

Shiro doesn’t hesitate to follow orders. He touches all along the length of Keith’s torso, rolling Keith’s nipples between his fingers and smoothing down till he finds that spot above Keith’s hip that drives the boy wild. 

Keith moans and bucks against Shiro’s thigh. He takes one of Shiro’s hands and shoves it down to his boxers. Shiro picks up the hint quickly. He kneads Keith over with the heel of his hand, then reaches through the opening and draws Keith out.

“Yes, daddy,” Keith encourages, rutting himself into Shiro’s hand. “Just touch me.” He’s practically purring as he moves. He pushes himself up and into Shiro’s waiting fist, then rolls back, dragging his ass over Shiro’s thigh like he’s desperate to be filled.

It’s unspeakably hot!

Literally. Shiro can’t speak. He can hardly think. All he knows if he’s got Keith’s cock throbbing in his hand, and free range to touch him however he likes. 

Shiro’s metal hand explores Keith’s body, sussing out sensitive, secretive little places, while his other hand keeps a steady, tight grip for Keith to fuck into.

“Oh, perfect, daddy. Perfect.”

Keith fucks himself wild against Shiro’s leg, his head tossed back, eyes closed. His moans are wanton, and he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, so all his sounds turn to low hums. His nails scratch along Shiro’s chest.

He’s grinding his hips back on Shiro’s like all he has to do is grind hard enough and Shiro will fill him.

“Fuck, you want it so bad, don’t you?” Shiro asks in total awe of Keith. The boy’s beauty and desperation finally kicking the words out of him without filter. But Keith whines at the question and bears down hard against Shiro’s leg. The silk caught between them must be dragging across his hole with the way he’s got Shiro’s thigh buried between his cheeks. “You want my cock in you, don’t you baby boy?” 

Shiro leans forward so he can feel the heat radiating off Keith’s body, and feel the panting breaths against his cheek. He holds Keith tighter and the boy starts to lose rhythm against him. 

“Da-daddy…” Keith whines. He looks so close.

“Is that what you want, baby? You want me to fill you up?” Shiro hand drifts around to squeeze playfully at the meat of Keith’s ass. Then he pitches his voice down, low and deadly. “Or did you want to spread me open and fuck me senseless?” 

Keith’s eyes fly open with a loud groan. His hands drag up around Shiro’s shoulders and his nails dig into Shiro’s skin. His cum splashes against Shiro’s stomach in explosive bursts. Keith keeps moving into Shiro’s hand until he’s whimpering and soft. Then he tilts his forehead to lean against Shiro’s and pants, breathing in the air from Shiro’s lungs.

And, truth be told, Shiro is panting as well. He’s worked up beyond belief. He’s definitely ruined this pair of sleep pants with the way his cock’s been drooling over Keith this whole time. 

As Keith starts to catch his breath, he pitches himself to the side and bounces to the bed. It hits Shiro like a ton of bricks: they did it again!

Or, more specifically, they _didn’t_ do it again!

Shiro’s so hard he wants to cry, he’s covered in Keith’s cum and scratch marks, but he’s still untouched. And by the looks of Keith’s pleased, blissed out, sleepy expression, Shiro isn’t going to be touched. Keith is already falling back to sleep. 

Eyes shut, Keith reaches out blindly for the blankets. A moment later, his silk boxers go flying, and he reaches back for Shiro’s arm, making himself comfortable.

Shiro takes a few deep, centering breaths. It’s a dumb move, but he takes his sleep pants off. They’re already ruined, so he uses a dry leg to wipe down his stomach. 

He settles down in the pillows next to Keith and pulls the boy into a warm embrace, though he’s careful to keep his unflagging erection away from the boy. There’s no need to wake Keith again, and Shiro’s too awake now to excuse rutting himself against Keith’s back until he comes. He doesn’t have permission.

Keith nuzzles up against Shiro’s chin as he settles, his breathing already smoothing out into the slow rhythm of sleep. It takes Shiro significantly longer to settle himself down, but he does eventually fall back to sleep in Keith’s arms.

They wake up again mid-morning, and Shiro’s lucky it’s a Sunday or else he’d have hell to pay with Pidge for sleeping through any morning meetings. They’re wrapped around each other again, but this time it’s only comfort that’s singing through Shiro’s veins, not the fires of passion that seem to ignite every time Keith so much as looks his way.

“Mmm, morning Shiro,” Keith says, his voice still thick and dreamy with sleep. He stretches his whole body, tensing and relaxing in a long line against Shiro’s and, when he drops his arms back down, he pets slowly along Shiro’s side. Up and down, up and down. 

It’s a mesmerizing motion, and though it doesn’t draw Shiro back to sleep, it does draw him deeper within himself, like a meditation. 

“Did you have a good sleep, sweetheart?” Shiro’s lips find the crown of Keith’s head and leave a sleepy kiss right at the apex. 

He really likes waking up in Keith’s arms. It might very well be a better experience to falling asleep in Keith’s arms. But… he’s not quite sure. He’ll have to try it again just to be 100%. Maybe just a few more thousand nights. Every night and morning until they die.

Just to be safe.

For science.

Keith hums and stretches again all the way down to his toes. “I feel amazing. Nothing like morning sex and a nap to make a guy relax.”

Shiro chuckles. “Well, I wouldn’t know,” he says, lightly. 

It’s not an admonishment. And it’s not sulking – not exactly, anyway. Still, Keith pulls back to look at Shiro with those too-clever eyes of his. The ones that pierce right through Shiro.

“Are you mad I still won’t get you off?” The tone isn’t that playful, faux-sympathy banter Keith usually takes on when this comes up. It’s not worried either. It’s more like Keith is curious.

“I’m not mad,” Shiro says. And he means it. He does his utmost to make it clear in his voice that he means it, because he does. “I’m just…” he strokes a long line down Keith’s bare back, using the touch to comfort Keith and himself. “… You know I’ll never force you, right? I’ve made that clear?”

It hurts more than Shiro can say to think that Keith still doesn’t trust him. That some part of Keith worries once they sleep together, Shiro will snap and demand sexual favours for his gifts. That he thinks something about Shiro is untrue.

“Abundantly clear, Shiro.” Keith’s hand leaves Shiro’s side and strokes along his cheek instead. The gentle touch is intimate and it brushes away Shiro’s fears. “I know what this is – well, I don’t know what I’d call us, but I know what’s between us. I know you’ll never pressure me.” He holds Shiro’s gaze for a moment, watching the information sink in and the doubt and fear finally clear from Shiro’s expression. Then his lips quirk up at the sides. “But now it’s like a competition, you know? Who breaks first? Me or you?”

The very idea startles a laugh out of Shiro. “What do you mean ‘who breaks first’? You’ve broken tons of times already!” Shiro is absolutely incredulous.

“I haven’t broken!” Keith sounds affronted. “The game, _daddy_ , is who breaks for you. Do you finally break and tell me what you want? Or do I break and let you have me? The game is for my ass.”

“What about my ass?”

Keith gives a whole-body shiver at the mention of taking Shiro’s ass for himself. “Fine, my ass or yours.”

Shiro thinks for a minute. “So basically, it’s who lets me come first, hmm?”

Keith grins. “Yup,” he snaps the ‘p’ at the end of the word.

“Fine.” Shiro’s eyes feel like they’re burning at he tilts down into Keith’s space. He loves a competition. He especially loves a competition that he can win.

“Fine,” Keith mimics. 

Shiro reaches out and pulls Keith’s hand into a fair shake. He and Keith give each other the stink eye for a moment before they both settle back down into the blankets. 

“For the record,” Shiro says, pulling Keith up against his chest so he can feel their hearts beat together, “we’re partners.”

“Partners,” Keith repeats. “Sounds like we run a business together.”

“Would you rather be boyfriends?” Shiro raises an eyebrow at the question, even though there’s know way for Keith to see it, trapped as he is under Shiro’s chin.

“Yugh,” Shiro can hear the face Keith pulls, “that sounds like we’re in middle school.” 

Keith goes silent for a moment; his finger tracing idly designs over the scars at Shiro’s pec. “Partners,” he says softly to himself, and Shiro thinks he can feel a smile press against his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Shiro really thought he was gonna get his dick wet this time. But alas... the only wetness is his own weeping. lol!!
> 
> Next chapter is a moment a lot of you have been waiting for! Pidge is coming!! Y'all've been so pumped to see her meet Keith... to the point where I had to go back to this part and re-write it to try and ensure it lived up to some of the hype you peeps gave it in the comments.
> 
> I'm so thrilled you guys are sticking along for this ride with me <3<3 I love every single one of your kudos and comments! <3 You're the best xoxox
> 
> Follow me on twitter for fun Sheithy BS and also pictures of my cat. Follow me on tumblr if you would like to be shouted at about fics precisely once every 2 weeks. lol  
> Twitter: [@WTuesdays](https://twitter.com/WTuesdays)  
> Tumblr: [WatermelonTuesdays](https://watermelontuesdays.tumblr.com/)


	14. A Day in the Office

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro gets a surprise visit at work.

A few days later, Keith meets Pidge for the first time.

Not that Keith hasn’t been to Shiro’s office before, he has. Just always late at night to pick Shiro up, or on Pidge’s days off. Not that Shiro plans it that way, necessarily – it’s just… you don’t go out of your way to make life difficult for yourself. 

“And you are?” Pidge greets Keith, feigning disinterest even though she knows exactly who he is. Shiro’s only shown her about 1000 photos of Keith. Has only described in exact detail how the light catches on Keith’s eyes, so they shine like the ocean. 

Shiro’s already up from his desk and heading to the door as he hears Keith calmly answer with his name.

“Hmm… Kogane… Ko-ga-ne… Well, you’re not on schedule for today. What exactly is your relationship with Mr. Shirogane?”

Dammit. Shiro knows Pidge is trying to do him a solid, knows she thinks there’s still some kind of nebulousness to their relationship that needs defining, but that is no longer necessary. Shiro rushes to the door before Pidge can embarrass Keith, but he’s not quite fast enough.

“I’m his partner.”

Shiro is fast enough, however, to spot the dopey, happy grin that pulls across Keith’s face the moment he says it. 

“Partner,” Pidge repeats skeptically. Keith only nods: his smile is too wide for him to speak.

Shiro is absolutely gobsmacked.

He clears his throat to announce his presence, and then he’s moving past Pidge’s desk and wrapping his arms around Keith because he’s so weak and it’s been actual hours since he last held Keith. He doesn’t even care that he can hear Pidge retch as he takes a deep inhale of Keith’s hair, holding him tight.

When they pull apart, Shiro’s grin is bright enough to match Keith’s. 

It doesn’t matter if they’ve seen each other every day for over a month now. It doesn’t matter that they’ve seen each other just this morning. Holding Keith is his arms will always be a relief for Shiro.

“You’ve trained him well,” Pidge comments dryly, eyeing the way Shiro clings to Keith.

“It was easy. He was already housebroken when I found him,” Keith says with a shrug.

Shiro watches in horror as matching grins line Pidge and Keith’s faces. A friendship forged out of his nightmares. 

“What’re you doing here?” Shiro asks, hoping to distract them from each other. 

It works, Keith attention redirects to Shiro, a pink spread of blush tinting his cheeks.

“I wanted to see you. And… talk to you.” He pulls a face that is far too innocent and fiddle with the button at Shiro’s collar. Somehow Shiro knows his bank account is about to take a hit. 

Behind the desk, Pidge snickers, clearly sensing the same thing.

But Shiro just grins. He’s happy to spend the money on whatever it is Keith wants. He winks to Keith and instructs Pidge to hold all his calls as he starts to pull his _partner_ into his office. 

“Make good choices,” Pidge says as Shiro shuts the door on her as gently as possible. 

He hovers at the door for a moment while Keith makes himself at home. 

Turning the lock on the door, while presumptuous, is probably the safest bet considering it’s _Keith_ and considering that Pidge is just outside the door. But… the lock makes a clicking sound. An unreasonably loud clicking sound given the size of the lock. It’s not thunderous, but it is loud enough for Pidge to hear. And Shiro has to think hard about whether he wants to give Pidge that ammunition.

While Shiro debates, Keith settles at the desk, moving Shiro’s laptop and some of the papers out of the way. Then he looks around the room, searching.

“Shiro?”

“Yeah!” Shiro takes a breath, pushes the lock, and moves to his desk.

He has a couch in his office. With a coffee table. It’s big and there’s lots of space to stretch out and get comfy while they talk. But Keith chose Shiro’s desk instead.

Keith is sitting right where Shiro’s paperwork should be, so Shiro circles the desk and drops himself into his chair. Once Shiro is seated, Keith props a foot up on the chair while the other stays on the floor.

The stance opens Keith’s legs up, and while it’s not overtly sexual, when you have legs like Keith’s it becomes sexual. 

Shiro’s hands fall, naturally, to Keith’s knees. They’re warm through his jeans and just a bit knobbly. 

“What did you want to talk about?”

Keith smiles rather than answers, a very pretty smile, with just a hint of a flutter of lashes. 

This oughta be good.

“Well, daddy, you know how you gave me that trust for school?”

“Yeess,” Shiro says carefully. The trust is locked-in for education until Keith starts his first semester. Though, if he’s looking for another million, Shiro will happily pay up.

“Well, over Christmas break, there’s this two-week culinary course that Hunk’s been going on about for months, but it costs $2000…”

Shiro smiles and rolls his chair closer so he can run his palms up Keith’s legs and around his back. “And you wanted to buy him a spot in the class for Christmas?”

Just as attractive as everything else that makes up Keith is his big heart.

“More like a scholarship. I don’t think he’d just accept it as a gift.”

Shiro wants to kiss the very tip of Keith’s nose, but doing so would require he stand, and that’s just not happening. So, he settles for complimenting the boy. “You’re so thoughtful, Keith.” He waits and watches the blush spread across Keith’s perfect little nose. The pink kissing him where Shiro cannot. “I can make him a scholarship. How soon does he need it?”

“Mmm,” Keith dithers a moment, “pretty soon. Can we add like, an application or something? Something that makes it so we’re not just giving him the money? I don’t want him to think he has to suck your cock for $2000.”

“No, that’s your job,” Shiro jokes. A few weeks ago, Shiro would never even think to make a joke like that. Hell, even just a few days ago he wouldn’t have risked it. But now, he and Keith are on the same page, and Shiro doesn’t fear Keith’s reaction to an off-colour joke.

Keith chuckles then leans down. “Thank you, daddy,” he murmurs against Shiro’s lips before they close in a kiss. 

The kiss is short, but potent. Shiro can feel a surge of energy, and his arms almost tingle where they wrap around Keith’s body. 

“Speaking of gifts,” Shiro says as Keith straightens back up. “What do you want for Christmas, baby?”

Keith smiles. “A car.”

Shiro already knows Keith has the exact make, model, and colour picked out. “What kind of car, baby?” 

“Ferrrrarrii,” Keith says, almost singsong. “F8 Tributo.”

“Mmmm,” Shiro hums. He can just see Keith in it. Hugging those turns like a professional. “You wanna go fast, baby?”

Keith’s eyes light up as Shiro’s voice pitches low. He shifts on the desk, moving closer to the edge, closer to Shiro.

“Yeah,” it’s half agreement, half moan. Shiro’s pulse starts to race. “I want to race you and your lambo and leave you eating my dust.”

Shiro’s hands drift down to Keith’s ass and _squeeze_. 

Keith’s fingers find Shiro’s hair and start stroking. They’re leaning into each other now, bodies shifting, just waiting to see who strikes first. Will Shiro pull Keith down into his lap? Or will Keith take Shiro by the tie and pull him up and over the desk?

“It won’t be all you’ll be eating,” Keith promises, and Shiro absolutely growls.

Clever long fingers wrap around Shiro’s tie and pull him up for a brief and brutal kiss before Keith throws Shiro back down into his chair. The speed of it all gives Shiro momentary whiplash, and he looks owlishly around from his seat. 

Keith’s already sliding off the desk and down to his knees. 

“I guess someone had better pay for the scholarship,” Keith jokes.

“O-oh fuck,” Shiro says. His voice comes out a little higher than usual, and he has to swallow down a sharp squeak when Keith starts digging at his pants, working the button and zipper open. 

It’s under-the-desk blowjob time! A staple of any office fantasy. 

Only this time it’s real, and Shiro doesn’t know how to handle it. His brain momentarily powers down as he watches Keith pull him from his pants. Keith holds Shiro tenderly before he leans down and nuzzles against Shiro’s growing length. 

He moves so that his lower lip catches over the mushroom head of Shiro’s cock; just like that, Shiro snaps back to reality.

This is quite literally the _first_ time Keith’s mouth has been in direct contact with Shiro’s dick in the _entire_ time they’ve known each other and Shiro is _not_ tuning out on this now. 

No! Shiro is going to make himself useful. He sweeps his fingers through Keith’s hair and pulls it away from Keith’s face so that he doesn’t miss a single detail. 

Keith moves slow at first, making a meal out of the show. He catches his lip along the underside of Shiro’s cock and lets it drag over him, giving Shiro the full sensation of that plump, pink little cushion. His lips descend along the tip and give it a slow, wet kiss before Keith tilts his head and starts to massage them slowly down Shiro’s length all the way to the base. 

Already, Shiro’s cock is weeping. He fists his hands in Keith’s hair to keep himself from losing control of himself. He hasn’t forgotten about their competition, and Shiro’s not about to be the one to beg Keith to get him off.

Keith covers every inch of Shiro’s girth in sweet, warm kisses and then he gets to work with his tongue. 

That tongue. His tongue. Fuck! Keith’s tongue is smart. It’s talented, and it’s hot, and it’s wet, and it seeks out pleasure like a missile. It runs along the veins of Shiro’s dick and dips under the edge of his cockhead. It circles along the seam and delves lightly into the tip. 

And then there’s lips and tongue together and Shiro is being sucked, good and proper, into Keith’s mouth.

Keith closes his eyes to concentrate on slowly swallowing Shiro inch by inch. It’s almost a shame, because Shiro would like nothing more than to watch those pretty eyes tear up as Keith chokes on his cock. But, Shiro’s not complaining. 

The long lashes across Keith’s cheek flutter the farther down he goes, and that’s a beautiful second place for Shiro. 

“Ke-eith…” Shiro moans before he remembers they’re in his office. So, he bites his cheek to keep quiet and rocks his hips lightly to meet Keith’s torturous mouth. “Keith,” he whispers this time, only because he can’t help saying Keith’s name.

“You like that?” Keith asks, drawing off Shiro’s dick. He sticks out his tongue and rubs Shiro’s head against the flat of it, making a show out of slowly sucking Shiro back into his mouth. 

“Christ,” Shiro answers with a hiss. 

Keith sinks down so slow Shiro’s legs begin to shake with the need to thrust into the warm, wet mouth. Keith keeps going down and down, opening his throat until his nose is pressed against Shiro’s stomach. He holds there for a moment, making Shiro squirm, making Shiro feel every inch of that hot tightness. Then Keith swallows, his throat clenching around Shiro’s head.

Shiro’s hands tighten, his thumbs find their way to Keith’s forehead and he nearly wrenches Keith away. 

It’s so much!

It’s too much!

Another second of it and…

“Gonna blow. Keef- gonn..!” Language fails him, as does his hands. But Keith doesn’t.

He pulls off at just the right second and backs away, leaving Shiro pendulous and full in the office air, precum and spit dribbling down his shaft. Shiro strains his whole body, feeling a whiplash of emotion as the orgasm is snatched out from under him once again. His cock bounces in the air as he flexes and fights to get a hold of himself. 

It’s cold without Keith’s mouth.

“You know, you could always beg me, daddy. You just have to say the word.”

Shiro does know. But he won’t do it. 

He breathes through the clench of his blue-balls and pulls Keith up by the hair for a distracting kiss. It doesn’t do a perfect job because Shiro can taste his own cock on Keith’s tongue, but it’s enough to ease the knee-jerk rush of anger at being denied once again. 

Keith pulls away from their kiss with a snap of their lips and reaches down between them. Shiro feels Keith’s fingers slide up his still-hard cock and he hisses. It’s not a move meant to titillate, Keith has other, more nefarious plans as he quickly runs a finger through Shiro’s dripping precum and holds it out for Shiro to taste.

Shiro looks to the finger, glazed pearlescent white. He looks to Keith whose hawk-like gaze is focused on Shiro’s lips. He looks to the finger again and opens his mouth.

He sucks his precum off of Keith’s fingers, and this time it makes Keith groan.

“Fuck that’s hot, daddy.”

Shiro grunts and runs his tongue along the salty finger, sucking until it’s spotless. 

Once he’s clean, Keith pulls back and leans himself against Shiro’s desk once again. He has to adjust himself in his pants, which are looking particularly tight in the front now.

“You look good like this daddy,” Keith says, touching across Shiro’s cheek. His eyes take in Shiro’s flushed cheeks and rumpled clothing. “We should do this more often.”

Shiro groans. It’s the sound of a man who has a hard-on he can do nothing about, and a meeting with shareholders in 50 minutes. It’s a desperate sound, though Shiro isn’t sure if he’s more desperate for relief or death at the moment. 

“As fun as it is, baby. I have a meeting that I need to be presentable for. So, I’m afraid I can’t play anymore.”

Keith takes the news with an easy shrug. “I’ll head out in a minute.” He adjusts himself again, and Shiro can’t help the shark-grin that spreads across his face knowing Keith doesn’t want to be caught hard in public either. 

“Take your time, baby,” Shiro says, even as his hands start to move up Keith’s legs. He follows the long line of Keith’s thighs, warm even through those tight jeans he’s always wearing. 

He reaches all the way up to Keith’s hips, his thumbs circling lightly along the inseam of Keith’s thighs, then drops back down. Shiro watches the mix of apprehension, excitement, and disappointment that drifts across Keith’s face in succession with a dark smile. It’s rare he gets to tease Keith like this. And Shiro knows he’ll pay hell for this later, but it’s hard to feel sorry for his future self when his current self is still hard, still wanting, and still a little bit wet from Keith’s mouth.

Keith’s legs open to Shiro as he runs his palms back up. Like the boy is trying to steer Shiro where he really wants it – though there’s a lingering question of _where_. Does he want Shiro on the bulge still straining through his jeans? Or does he want Shiro a little lower? To territory Shiro has yet to visit?

Judging by the way Keith’s legs lift as he spreads them, he wants Shiro lower. And god that is tempting! Keith will open so beautiful for Shiro, he just knows it. Take everything Shiro has to give him. 

For a moment, Shiro’s hand starts to drift, guided by his spiraling thoughts, down low. 

Keith makes a fascinating, soft little noise, and lifts his legs a little higher, twisting his hips. It’s so needy. Shiro’s fingers dip lower, searching for that warm, secret spot…

“Mr. Shirogane.” 

_Christ!!_

Pidge’s voice through the intercom is a shock of ice water to the system.

Shiro yelps. His hand goes flying and Keith’s legs jolt then drop to the floor. 

It takes a few seconds to adjust back to reality and lean over Keith to press his intercom.

“What, Pidge?” It’s rude but Shiro has precisely zero patience right now.

There’s an empty static sound for a long second, Pidge holding down the button and saying nothing to show her disapproval at Shiro’s clipped reply. “Allura is asking about the Innovation Gala again. She wants to know if you’re bringing a guest, and if you’ll give the keynote address.”

“You were supposed to hold all my calls,” Shiro says through gritted teeth.

“I held your calls. You didn’t say anything about the intercom.”

Damn that woman! Shiro hangs his head onto Keith’s shoulder and receives a gentle pat to his back that may be sincere or ironic – it’s impossible to tell with Keith.

Shiro lifts his head and looks to Keith. “You want to go to a gala? It’s $1500 a plate, and we can dress you up in something tight and expensive.” His hand found its way to Keith’s hip somewhere in the midst of his chat with Pidge, so Shiro gives the boy a quick squeeze. He waits for Keith’s nod.

He presses the intercom button again. “Tell Allura I’ll be there with a guest. And I’ll do the address.”

“Ok.”

Shiro straightens up. 

Pidge’s sudden interruption has killed the mood, but he’s still got Keith sitting on his desk looking beautiful as ever. He fits a hand along the curve of Keith’s cheek and starts to draw him in for a cool-down kiss.

“Oh! And Shiro?”

Shiro hisses and drops his forehead to Keith’s shoulder again while Keith shakes with restrained laughter. Shiro makes a long, dramatic whining noise.

“Yes, Pidge?”

“Just wanted to remind you, you have a meeting with Slav in about 12 minutes.”

“Fuck,” Shiro growls to himself. He forgot about that. Then he presses the button again, “Thank you, Pidge.”

Keith does laugh as soon as he gets a look at Shiro’s face. Usually, Shiro prides himself with his ability to keep his cool but… god, not today.

Shiro groans pathetically and buries his face back into Keith’s shoulder. “Not Slav. Not today.”

This seems like the perfect place to pop his dick back into his pants. He’s gone soft and there’s no amount of teasing Keith could possibly do to get Shiro going again with the prospect of a meeting with the head of development. 

Not even Keith is hot enough.

Keith gives Shiro a pitying look and jumps to his feet. 

“I’ll leave you be, then.” He pats Shiro’s cheek and gives him a swift kiss. “Don’t forget about Hunk.”

“Never.” Shiro chases Keith’s lips for another quick kiss and then Keith is going. Leaving Shiro to his own demise.

Shiro sits at his desk for a few minutes and contemplates his life. Then he pulls Pidge up on the intercom again.

“Pidge. Can you make an appointment with my financial advisor for this evening?”

“Sure thing, boss.”

“And are the new Ferrari’s all sold out already?”

“I believe so, Shiro.”

“Hmm,” Shiro grumbles. “Can you see who owes me a favour over at Ferrari? It might be time to call a few in.”

“Want me to dig up some dirt?” Pidge is all too happy to help, now. Shiro rolls his eyes. He’s damn lucky she’s loyal to him, or she’d be a terror.

“Not just yet. Let’s see where we get with favours first.”

“Boo!” 

Shiro chuckles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAYYY! Another chapter down!
> 
> I hope Pidge and Keith meeting was everything you hoped it'd be. I went back and added a bit more to the section when everyone was getting so excited to see them together. It's still not a lot of Pidge/Keith friendship, but at least there's plenty of Pidge being a troll. <3
> 
> Your comments and kudos continue to give me life! They're keeping me warm as it starts to get hold up North. 
> 
> Speaking of which! Happy Canadian Thanksgiving! I know there's not a lot of celebrating, but I hope everyone's taking care of yourselves and seeing/videoing/chatting with friends, loved ones, and family (of the blood and/or found variety).
> 
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	15. Hot and Heavy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro has a tasty treat, then he and Keith watch a movie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special Happy Birthday love sent out into the universe to our favourite Sugar baby, Keith! <3

By the end of the week, they have a scholarship in Hunk’s name and Keith has had two fittings for a custom designer suit for the gala. It’s going to cost a pretty penny for the rush job, but it promises to be well worth it, judging by the happy look on Keith’s face when he comes back from his second fitting.

“Hi, daddy,” Keith says happily, sliding up to Shiro for a sweet kiss hello. He stretches his body along Shiro’s and scratches down Shiro’s back like a cat. 

“Did you have a good fitting?”

Keith nods. “We’re going to have to tie your hands to keep them off me at the gala.”

Desire sparks between Shiro’s eyes at the thought. He leans down to nose along Keith’s cheek and into his hair. “How am I going to show you off if I can’t even touch you, baby?”

Shiro’s hand wraps around Keith’s waist, pulling him close, while his metal hand drops low and grabs the full moon of Keith’s ass. It’s a cruel move for the both of them. The escalation between them is getting out of hand, and Shiro is finally learning how to play as dirty as Keith.

The boy _loves_ Shiro’s hands on his ass. Loves every touch and squeeze. So, when Shiro rolls that juicy muscle in his palm, Keith can’t help but pull himself closer, stretching up to his tiptoes in Shiro’s grasp.

“There’s going to be more money at the Gala than there are stars in the sky, and every person there is going to make themselves sick with wanting you.”

Keith tilts back just a little. Just enough for his heavy-lidded eyes to lock on Shiro’s. 

“But no one can have me.”

“No,” Shiro growls, low in his throat. 

It only takes a few steps to pin Keith against the kitchen counter and lean him backwards; their hips press flush together and Keith’s back arches beautifully over the granite countertops. 

“You going to have me for supper, daddy?” Keith tries to joke, but his voice is too deep. Too sensual. 

He wants it too bad for the joke to land.

They’re two sticks of kindling in a drought. Rubbing desperately together, trying to make a spark.

And somehow, Keith is just as lost as Shiro. It shouldn’t make sense, the boy’s gotten off every day this week, whether it’s by Shiro’s hand, Shiro’s mouth, or by grinding himself off between Shiro’s pecs. Still, Keith wants it. He wants more. He wants Shiro deep and pulsing inside him. 

Shiro wants much the same. There’s so much electricity between them these days it’s hard to concentrate, hard to think when Keith’s in the room. The urge to touch, to kiss, to fondle – it’s all too strong.

Just a few minutes on the counter, rocking their hips together in slow circles, Shiro’s metal hand squeezing and rolling at Keith’s ass, and they’re both reduced to whining messes. 

There’s a line of spit from Keith’s mouth to his cheek where Shiro tracked it with wet kisses. Keith’s hair is a mess and it sticks to his cheek and the sweat of his forehead. 

They’re too warm, and Shiro’s tie is too tight. It’s all too, too much. 

Shiro bites just under Keith’s ear, leaves a mark for Keith to look at later and know just how desperate they got. Keith’s only just got home but already they’re overcome. Broiling in each other.

“Please. Baby. Keith,” Shiro gasps. 

Slowly, Keith lifts his legs, trusting Shiro’s grip on his ass and the force of their bodyweight against the counter to keep him upright. Those long, sinuous legs wrap around Shiro and pull them even tighter, even hotter together. 

“Please what?” Keith hums. It’s a smug tone in his voice, melodic and sweet. 

The sound grounds Shiro enough to remember. He’s not going to lose. Not to Keith. Not when Keith is just as desperate.

Shiro didn’t get where he is by giving up. Not once. Not ever.

_Patience._

Shiro’s brain scrambles to find some way to repurpose his desires. Some way to take the edge off without giving in.

“Let me suck you, baby. Let me make you feel good.”

Keith groans and pulls at Shiro’s hair until their lips come together in another series of wet smacks and moans. 

“You want to get me off, daddy? Will that make you feel better?”

His legs squeeze Shiro tight, so Shiro’s response comes out high and reedy. “Uh huh!” 

“Take me to the bedroom then, big boy.”

It takes a moment for the directions to register through the lust-haze of Shiro’s brain. He nods and starts to pull back, but Keith just holds tighter. 

“ _Carry me _, daddy.”__

__Shiro swallows thickly and nods again. He’s helpless to Keith’s every whim. This boy stepped into his world and tipped it upside down and Shiro is at his complete mercy._ _

__He loves it._ _

__Shiro stands with Keith in his arms and oh _Shit!_ this is so much ~~better~~ worse! Keith’s weight is heavy over Shiro’s throbbing cock and it threatens to steal the breath from his lungs. It’s stronger with every step, as Keith’s body jostles against him, grinding them both together so perfectly. They’re so heavy and warm together. _ _

__Keith’s mouth finds Shiro’s neck as they slowly march, step by excruciating step, into the bedroom._ _

__“No marks, baby,” Shiro warns as a flicker of teeth cross over his pulse._ _

__Keith makes a sulking noise and hitches himself ever closer, nearly sending Shiro to his knees from the sweet pressure it gives to his hard cock. He’s making a mess of his pants – again! The bill for his dry cleaning the last few months has been growing ever steeper thanks to a certain someone._ _

__Shiro deposits Keith on the bed like he’s something delicate and precious._ _

__Which… precious? _Yes._ Delicate? _No.__ _

__“C’mere,” Keith says as Shiro starts to pull away._ _

__He pulls at Shiro’s tie and unbuttons the first few buttons of Shiro’s shirt. When Shiro thinks he gets the hint and starts to lift the shirt over his head, Keith stops him with a curt, “No.” Keith pulls Shiro’s shirt into disarray and then strategically messes Shiro’s hair, like he’s getting Shiro ready for a photoshoot._ _

__“On the floor.” Shiro doesn’t necessarily understand, but he obeys. The fire burning in Keith’s blue eyes is impossible to resist. “On your knees.”_ _

__Shiro folds himself down to the floor and looks up at Keith._ _

__A soft touch strokes along Shiro’s face, the thumb rubbing over Shiro’s lower lip and pulling it down just a little._ _

__“God, you look delicious, daddy.”_ _

__Shiro heats under the praise. He watches as Keith slowly rolls to his feet, standing just inches from Shiro’s face. Keith strips himself slowly, letting his hands roam over his body, touching at that spot on his hips and dragging nails lightly down the line of his throat._ _

__When Shiro makes a move to touch, Keith shushes him. “No touch, daddy. Stay just like that.” Shiro’s hands drop to the floor, and then curl behind his back to keep himself from breaking the rules._ _

__Keith unzips his pants so slow. He makes a meal out of spreading them open and revealing inch after inch of perfect skin for Shiro to admire. They’re close enough for Shiro to taste if he wants, but he’ll wait for Keith’s approval._ _

__His mouth drools as he waits, thinking about how heavy and salty Keith will be in his mouth. Because why else would Shiro be on his knees, looking rumpled for Keith’s pleasure, if not to suck Keith off just like he asked to do._ _

__But as Keith smoothly steps out of his pants and tosses them to aside, he moves away from Shiro, not towards._ _

__Shiro whines as Keith turns and sits himself back on the bed in front of him. He moves to shuffle closer, maybe bury his mouth in Keith’s lap, but a long leg reaches out and Keith stops him with a foot._ _

__Keith’s foot settles on Shiro’s chest, just over his frantic beating heart, and it stays there, holding Shiro in place._ _

__“Just watch me.”_ _

__Shiro’s gulp is audible, and his eyes are wide. He hardly blinks as Keith spreads his legs and draws his fingers light and teasing along his inner thigh. One of Keith’s hands takes a detour up along his torso, all the way up to his throat so his fingers curl around his face. He sucks a few into his mouth, making a delicious show of it. His other hand just keeps stroking, slow and smooth, over his thigh._ _

__Keith teases himself for a while, moaning at the feel of his own hands on his body. He roams all the places Shiro likes to mark, touching himself everywhere except for where they both know he really wants it._ _

__Hanging full and heavy in the air, Keith’s cock is crying for attention, but Keith just ignores it. Keith’s attention is all on Shiro._ _

__Shiro’s not sure why – he’s not doing anything. He’s just sitting there on his knees, pinned by Keith’s foot and by Keith’s gaze. He’s still drooling, and yes, Keith did make sure he looks artistically ruffled, but it hardly seems enough._ _

__Still, Keith watches him. Those sharp eyes roam Shiro’s expression, watching every twitch of his eyes, every bob of his throat._ _

__When Keith finally closes his fist around himself, he does it slow and steady. Just like everything else. His other hand tweaks at his nipples and fans along his side, while he twists and pulls at himself. Slow like he’s savouring it. Slow like he has nowhere else he’d rather be._ _

__Slow like it’s not killing Shiro to watch and not touch._ _

__Over time, Keith’s other hand drops down and he massages his balls. He runs his thumb along the seam and moans._ _

__Keith is beautifully vocal. Shiro always knows exactly what he likes from those sweet little sounds he makes. And right now, Keith is thoroughly enjoying himself. He’s luxuriating under Shiro’s gaze, taking his sweet time to bring himself every inch of pleasure he can wring from his body._ _

__And Shiro has a front row seat._ _

__Shiro’s eyes trail Keith’s body as he brings his hand up again, over the creamy, muscular skin of his abs, over his pert, brown little nipples, up the strong column of his neck._ _

__Keith tilts his head back and makes a show of dropping two fingers into his mouth. He drops them deep and swirls them about his mouth. When they come back out, they’re dripping._ _

__Sweet ambrosia._ _

__Shiro wants nothing more than to suck them clean. Suck Keith dry. Lick over every inch of this toned, beautiful body. Keith’s moaning now, but Shiro could make him do so much more._ _

__But that foot is a steady pressure over Shiro’s heart. Holding him there. Locked, with his hands behind his back. All because Keith said so._ _

__And Shiro will do everything Keith says._ _

__Shiro’s eyes grow wide as Keith drops his dripping wet fingers down, spreads his legs even further, and circles his sweet little hole._ _

__It’s a brownish pink colour, just like Keith’s nipples, with a dusting of dark hair leading up like a landing strip. It glistens with saliva when Keith pulls away a moment later and sucks his fingers back into his mouth._ _

__Shiro doesn’t even notice how his jaw has dropped. He doesn’t feel how his tongue is running along his lips and teeth like a dog being denied dinner. But Keith sees it. He sees it all._ _

__He smirks as he starts to work the first finger in. He moans, but not nearly as loud as Shiro does when that first knuckle disappears._ _

__Keith’s fist is still working his length over in slow strokes, and he twists his wrist as he pushes his finger farther. His hips rock onto it, and he makes a sated noise like _this_ is what he’s been after his whole life._ _

__Fuck! But this boy is going to wreck Shiro some day. That perfect little ass is going to be Shiro’s complete undoing. There’s not even a question, not even a doubt. Shiro will go to war for this ass. Shiro will die for it._ _

__Keith grins like he knows exactly what Shiro is thinking – or maybe Shiro said it out loud. There’s no way to tell. But Keith pulls out and thrusts back in a little harder, and a little farther, with a punched-out moan of “daddy!”_ _

__Shiro’s heart is banging in his chest and he’s sweating. He isn’t blinking, he doesn’t dare miss a second as Keith fucks himself so good. So perfectly._ _

__Keith sucks more spit onto his fingers, then starts fucking himself on two. Shiro watches as he scissors himself, reaching deep to press at that magic bundle of nerves that makes his toes curl against Shiro’s chest._ _

__“Fuck!” Keith cries as his fingers start to pick up the pace, his hips starting to curl and uncurl on the bed. He whimpers. “Daddy, now. Just your mouth.”_ _

__Shiro uncoils like a snake ready to strike. He holds Keith’s foot so he can place a delicate kiss to the inside of the boy’s ankle. Then he moves up._ _

__Slow and steady._ _

__Torturing Keith just as he’s been tortured. His lips move up Keith’s calf and along his inner thigh. He speeds up the closer he gets. Kisses growing sloppy and wet, with a bite of teeth on the soft stretch of skin._ _

__Then, with a growl, Shiro descends between Keith’s legs. He licks around Keith’s moving fingers, lapping at the spit and musk there. Keith’s moans spur him on._ _

__The boy’s fingers slip free, giving Shiro free reign. He pushes his tongue in, deep as he can. Sucks and nubbles at Keith’s rim. Nudges his nose against Keith’s taint._ _

__He uses his hands to lift Keith’s hips. Gives himself better access, pressed forward with salacious, hungry sounds. Tasting every inch of his boy._ _

__Shiro wants to add his fingers. Wants to fill Keith up. Stretch him wide. _Fuck!_ how this would feel on Shiro’s cock. He groans at that thought and forces his tongue as deep as physically possible. _ _

__He can hear the wet slap of Keith’s fist above his head, picking up pace as Keith starts to tense and shake._ _

__“Daddy!” Keith moans one last time as he starts to pulse around Shiro’s tongue. There’s a splatter of cum that lands in Shiro’s hair and drips down onto his face, but he just ignores it. He’s too busy licking every last ounce of pleasure out of his baby._ _

__“Beautiful, darling. So perfect,” Shiro says when he pulls back._ _

__Keith’s blue eyes are hazy and blissed out when he looks to Shiro, and they go wide with wonder as he looks Shiro over._ _

__“Look at you,” Keith breathes, reverent. He reaches with his relatively clean hand to swipe at the wetness that fell to Shiro’s cheeks. “You really do look pretty with my cum on your face, daddy.”_ _

__Shiro smiles. Though he’s still hard in his pants (and starting to get a little sore from kneeling on the ground), he feels Keith’s relief vicariously. He feels more relaxed, like his desires faded with Keith’s orgasm._ _

__“That was quite the show, baby.”_ _

__His voice is still a little husky, and Keith brightens at the tone._ _

__“You liked it?”_ _

__“Loved it.” He kisses Keith’s nose. “But I think you’d better go shower and leave daddy to calm down a little before supper, hmm?”_ _

__Keith grins. “Ok, daddy.”_ _

__“Why don’t you think of a movie for us to watch while you’re in there.” Keith stands and stretches before moving to the bathroom with a sway to the hips that taunts Shiro. Those perfect round buttocks of his bouncing _just so_ with each step. Shiro reaches out and smacks them lightly before Keith is out of reach. “You’re a terror,” Shiro praises._ _

__Keith disappears into the bathroom with a giggle while Shiro sits down on the bed to wait out his erection. It takes longer than usual because he can still taste Keith on his tongue._ _

__The shower doesn’t take long, and soon enough Keith is prancing about the room, stark naked, with renewed energy. Shiro laughs as the boy goofs off, dancing and shaking his ass around as he pulls out yoga pants and a soft shirt._ _

__“You know what we’re going to watch, baby?” Shiro asks, the allure of Keith’s ass finally giving him the strength to get up from the bed and get changed himself. He pulls out comfy sweats of his own then heads to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his now-crusty face._ _

__“Yup!” Keith says happily, popping the ‘p.’ “Pretty Woman.”_ _

__That startles a laugh out of Shiro. Usually Keith’s taste is films is more along the lines of explosions and well-choreographed fights. He likes to say there’s more artistry in a good fight scene than any sappy romance or confusing art house movie._ _

__“Why Pretty Woman?”_ _

__Keith shrugs. “I want to watch it and point out all the ways you’re better and sexier than Richard Gere.”_ _

__Shiro really laughs at that. He pulls Keith in close and presses a kiss to his temple. “Whatever you say, baby.”_ _

__They order in sushi and wait for it in the living rooms, sitting sideways on one of the couches so they can face each other, legs tangled together. They talk about Shiro’s day then, and Keith’s fitting. He spent most of the morning working on his admissions papers for a number of different colleges. Though he’s got the money to go anywhere – literally _anywhere_ , no one would dare refuse him – Keith is still putting in full effort on his applications. _ _

__Hearing Keith talk about it, explaining the questions and what he wrote for his essays, Shiro is proud. Keith is so smart. And he’s so determined._ _

__He’d make it to college on his own, Shiro is sure, if he hadn’t already sold himself short. But as it is, Shiro has no qualms stacking the deck in Keith’s favour. With the finances covered, Keith can focus on whatever he likes. Shiro doesn’t know what Keith will do, but he knows that in just a few short years, Keith will be rocking the world in some way. Whatever he choses, he will be taking that world by storm, just like he took Shiro’s heart._ _

__Shiro can feel his expression go soft as Keith speaks, feels the way his chest grows heavy with emotion. He feels so much for this kid. This young man of 20, with so much potential and twice as much heart._ _

__“… and I – are you even listening, old man? You’re going cross eyed.” Keith’s voice is accusatory._ _

__“I’m listening, I just…” Shiro doesn’t know what he just, but he covers it by stroking his knuckles across Keith’s cheek. “I’m just enamoured.”_ _

__Keith’s cheeks flood with red and his eyes search the couch for anything interesting to distract himself. His mouth works to try and say something, but he’s saved by the bell._ _

__Or, more accurately, by the buzzer._ _

__Keith stands and launches himself over the back of the couch. He accepts the packages from Coran and rushes the food off to the entertainment room, not waiting for Shiro._ _

__Still, when Shiro gets there, Keith is sitting in the middle of the couch, just waiting for Shiro to sit down so he can tuck himself into Shiro’s side, same as always. It takes them a few minutes to get settled with the movie on. Shiro reclines with the footrest kicked out and a lapful of sushi while Keith curls in at his side, feet tucked in beneath him._ _

__They eat and watch the movie. Every once in a while, Keith lifts a bite of sushi up for Shiro to eat from his chopsticks. Shiro accepts it with a full heart. This boy is so sweet. So perfectly sweet._ _

__Just as promised, Keith spends the movie sarcastically comparing Shiro to Richard Gere._ _

__“Well you wear grey hair _much_ better than him, for starters,” he drags, “and what’s with that whole thing with the floss? Not very trusting. You gave me the key that first day.”_ _

__There is no key, but that’s a technicality Shiro is happy to overlook. He’s too busy swimming in the praise from the boy at his side._ _

__“Pffft!” Keith dismisses, later in the movie, “you call that a shopping spree? How much are you spending on that suit for me? A million?”_ _

__“$97 thousand.” Shiro’s baby has rich tastes and rushing the job for a less than 2-week turnaround costs more than double the suit itself._ _

__“A million, then. On one suit! This guy’s small potatoes compared to you.”_ _

__Small potatoes?_ _

__Shiro can’t help the grin that stretches across his face. Small potatoes!_ _

__It takes Keith a few seconds to notice Shiro has stopped watching the movie and is focused entirely on Keith. He gives Shiro a passing glance and turns back to the movie, but quickly returns when he realizes Shiro is still looking at him._ _

__“What?”_ _

__“‘Small potatoes’?”_ _

__Keith shoulders him. “Shut up.”_ _

__Even in the darkness, Shiro knows Keith is blushing. “No, it’s just good to know where I stand. You know, in relation to Richard Gere. He’s small potatoes and I’m…” Shiro grins and Keith moans, begging him not to say it, “Big Potatoes!”_ _

__“Jesus, I hate you,” Keith bemoans. He shoves Shiro away._ _

__“You can’t hate me. I’m big potatoes. No one hates big potatoes!”_ _

__Keith makes a frustrated growl, “Enough.”_ _

__But Shiro doesn’t let it go. He distracts them from the rest of the movie, asking Keith repeatedly just _how_ big his potatoes are, and whether Richard Gere’s potatoes are comparatively small or really just absolutely tiny._ _

__Keith pouts for the rest of the movie and all through the night until they climb into bed. As soon as the light is off and they’re ready for sleep, Keith rolls into Shiro’s space. His hand digs through the blanket and settles between Shiro’s legs, cupping his balls._ _

__“Night, potatoes,” he says, wiggling his fingers just enough to make Shiro grasp and his cock start to fill. And then Keith is gone, rolled back to the other side of the bed, leaving Shiro to suffer through yet another cool down before bed._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so serendipitous that my update today is on Keith's birthday! I'd like to take credit, but it was not done by design. Just crazy, random, happenstance!
> 
> Next chapter is party time at the Gala! Yee haw!! We're ramping up for the end now, and it's gonna go by fast. I thought we'd be done just before Christmas, but now I look at it and it should be early December. Which means I need to get cracking on a Christmas fic!
> 
> Please send your love in the form of kudos, comments, and positivity into the universe.
> 
> And you can follow me if you're feeling Sheithy.  
> Twitter: [@WTuesdays](https://twitter.com/WTuesdays)  
> Tumblr: [WatermelonTuesdays](https://watermelontuesdays.tumblr.com/)


	16. I Could Have Danced All Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith gets something off his chest, and then the boys kill it at a fancy-ass gala.

The morning of the gala, Shiro finds Keith curled up in a blanket out on the balcony. His profile in the morning sun is stunning, as ever, but distant. He looks off into the middle ground and drags from his cigarette without blinking. Lost in thought.

He’s been lost in thought several times the last few days. Shiro isn’t sure if it’s the stress of writing his admission papers or if it’s something else. What he does know is that Keith will tell him when he’s ready.

In the meantime, Shiro will do what he can to ease Keith’s mind, starting with coffee. There’s a whole corner of Shiro’s kitchen now devoted to coffee, with a brilliant and expensive espresso machine that only Keith is brave enough to use. Beside it is an even more expensive automated machine. All Shiro has to do is buy grounds for it, and press a few buttons, and it spits out coffee black as tar. A few more buttons, and it drops a frothing, sweet cup of latte that warms Shiro down to his toes.

He brings both cups out to the balcony.

Shiro doesn’t say anything as he approaches, and it takes a few seconds of standing in Keith’s line of sight before the boy reacts. 

“Shiro,” he says around his cigarette, smoke curling from his mouth. He scoots over to make room beside him on the glider and Shiro swaps the cup of tar for the corner of Keith’s blanket. “Thanks,” Keith murmurs.

It chilly out. There’s a bite of morning frost still in the air. It’s to be expected, it’s the first week of December already, and things are only going to get colder. Maybe Shiro should look into an outdoors heater for the balcony? Something to keep Keith warm during the winter.

As he thinks about it, his flesh hand travels under the blanket and rubs down Keith’s back. The boy shivers into the touch, and Shiro pulls him in closer. Keith tosses his cigarette away and shuffles until he’s sitting sideways, his feet between Shiro’s legs, his toes keeping warm under Shiro’s thigh. Keith’s arms wrap around his knees, holding his mug up just high enough to reach his lips. They sip at their coffees in a comfortable silence.

It’s a beautiful day outside. A perfect day for a blanket and a boy in his lap. A perfect lazy Saturday morning before a late night with excruciatingly wealthy people. 

Shiro runs his hand slow and steady across Keith’s back, keeping him warm and also, hopefully, giving him some comfort. 

Though Shiro tries not to look, it’s impossible not to notice Keith’s increased distraction. As time goes on, the boy’s brow starts to furrow and then he starts to chew on his lip. He looks like he’s staring down the end of a puzzle he just can’t crack. 

Shiro just sips at his latte and watches the sky slowly brighten over the city.

Out of nowhere, Keith snorts a small laugh. He raises a hand up to Shiro’s face and wipes over Shiro’s lip; cleaning Shiro’s face and offering up his finger for Shiro to lick clean of milk foam. 

“You’re impossible,” Keith says sweetly. Then his face drops, and his eyes grow serious. He looks away, to his hands, then forcibly locks eyes with Shiro. “I love you.”

The floor knocks out from under Shiro.

He’s hanging. Suspended. Midair. 

He’s never felt so good, so light, so wonderful in his life. 

He has no idea what his face is doing, if he’s smiling, if he’s numb, if he’s crying. 

His eyes are glued to Keith’s. Those blue eyes searching Shiro’s for the answer he _must_ see written there. 

“I love you,” Shiro returns. 

Immediately, Keith shakes his head and looks away. “You don’t have to say that…” he mutters.

“Hey,” Shiro reaches out and cups his hand along the curve of Keith’s jaw, pulling the boy back up to look at him again. “No. I do have to say it because it’s true. Keith, I do love you. I’ve loved you I think since I first saw you: shivering in the rain.” 

“Really?” Keith sounds so small. So impossibly small. 

Shiro’s heart aches; he pulls Keith forward to press a kiss to his forehead, then his nose. “Really.”

“But you never said it,” Keith argues, his voice turning a little petulant as he starts to accept that maybe Shiro does love him back.

The best answer is a kiss to the lips. Soft and sweet and flavoured with sugared coffee. “I didn’t want you to think it was too soon or scare you off.” Shiro rubs his thumb along Keith’s cheek. “I know I’m just some old man, and you’ve still got all this time ahead of you…”

“You’re not _that_ old,” Keith offers. “And I’d never find anyone like you. Give me a hundred years, I won’t do it.”

Shiro’s grin can’t be contained. 

“You’re so sweet.” He kisses Keith’s cheek. “So brilliant.” He kisses the other. “So beautiful.” He kisses again. 

“Shiro,” Keith whines at the compliments and shuts Shiro up with a kiss. 

Keith’s lips are soft and pliant against Shiro’s. They’re not pushing, there’s no urgency between them. They have everything they need, and right now there’s no need to push farther. 

They hold each other close, wrapped together under the blanket, and exchange kisses well into the morning. 

A little later, still wrapped up in each other, Keith admits to worrying how to tell Shiro. “I wanted it to be this big romantic… thing. You know? Like, candles, and stars, and wine? Like what you do for me.” His blue eyes are so shy when they glance up to Shiro’s then fall back down to their empty mugs. “Like tonight at this fancy gala thing?” He shrugs like it’s unimportant.

Shiro pulls one of Keith’s hands from his mug and lifts it to kiss the back with gentle pressure.

“Any way you tell me is perfect. I love that you told me here. It’s private. Just us two. Nothing showy, just _us_.”

Keith nods and there’s a new shine to his eyes now. He leans down and nuzzles his face into Shiro’s shoulder, wiping unshed tears on Shiro’s sweater. 

Shiro chuckles softly, “Besides, you can tell me whenever you like now. We can do candles, and roses, and stars all you like.” He kisses the top of Keith’s head. “Because you love me,” Keith makes a half-hearted noise of protest, “and I love you, and we can say it all we want now.”

Keith nods and sniffs. And Shiro just holds Keith tighter, gathering the boy in his arms like he’s holding the entire world.

Because he is.

Allura arrives at three with Lotor and a small platoon of stylists, markup artists, and the like. 

It’s only the third time Allura has met Keith, but that doesn’t stop her from rushing him off to the guest room with the majority of the helpers while Lotor and Shiro are left in the master bedroom to get ready. 

Shiro’s suit fits him like a glove. Black pants, grey shirt, and pure white jacket, he looks damn good: if he may say so himself. Lotor dresses in navy and keeps most of the remaining stylists for himself to work over his hair and touch up his face, but one plucky little woman sits Shiro down on the bed and applies a quick coat of makeup and a thin layer of eyeliner. 

And then it’s time to wait. And wait. And wait for Allura and Keith to return from the guest room. Shiro and Lotor sit on the white couches, looking relaxed a cool like they’re straight out of a GQ shoot. 

When they’re starting to toe the line between punctual and late, Allura and Keith finally come out from the bedroom. Allura looks lovely in something pale blue that Shiro hardly even sees because all his attention is focused like a laser on Keith.

Keith looks like he’d put the devil himself to shame.

Good enough to eat with a spoon.

Beyond words.

His bespoke suit fits him _exactly_ like it should. It’s a little thinner on the legs than usual, but of course it is, this is Keith we’re talking about. And it’s trim and tight across his chest. It’s another patterned fabric, this one a dark blue, almost black, with swirls of deep purple galaxies. 

Keith’s hair is slicked back, away from his face, so you can see the piercing blue of his eyes. They’re made all the more ethereal by the black eyeliner and the touch of gold at his lids.

He looks phenomenal.

Shiro trots to his side like a lost puppy. He tries to think, but there are literally no words. So, he just tugs lightly on the cuff of Keith’s suit and does his best to let his face show how good Keith looks.  
Judging by the smile on Keith’s lips, he gets the message. 

“You look beautiful, Shiro,” Keith says, making no attempt to hide the appreciative once-over he gives Shiro.

“Beautiful!” Shiro repeats, like he’s never heard the word before. “That’s the word! That’s what you are.” He dips low so he can speak directly in Keith’s ear, “Beautiful, baby. And so much more.”

And true to Keith’s word, Shiro doesn’t want to stop touching him. As soon as he gets that first touch to Keith’s cuff, Shiro can’t stop. He has his hand on Keith’s shoulder as they leave the penthouse, on his lower back as they exit to the limo, on his knee as they drive to the gala. 

It takes real effort for Shiro to follow what the others are saying.

The fabric of Keith’s suit is soft under his hands, the purple galaxies are almost silk and it’s impossible not to trace the pattern with a finger. The whole car ride, Shiro keeps his hands on Keith, keeps pulling him closer till the boy is almost in his lap. At every lull in the conversation (of which there are many because Shiro is too dumb-struck to keep it going like an intelligent human), Shiro leans down to murmur in Keith’s ear just how good he looks. 

Keith is pink around the ears, which just makes him look all the more scrumptious. He’s still clearly riding the high of his morning confession. Plus, he enjoys the attention, loves having Shiro compliment him and show him off. 

Shiro is whispering in Keith’s ear, telling the boy exactly how jealous everyone is going to be to see he’s on Shiro’s arm tonight, when he’s interrupted by Allura.

“Shiro, I do hope you’ll be a little less distracted during your address tonight.”

She gives him a pointed look, punctuated with an arch to her eyebrows.

Shiro laughs, “I promise to be on my best behaviour, ‘Lura.”

She sniffs, “Well, we’re almost there.”

Allura is smiling when she looks away though, her lips stretching like she’s trying to keep it at bay. They’ve already talked about this, that very first night she met Keith: how she can see such a change in Shiro. How he looks lighter, happier, more relaxed in his own skin. He knows she approves of Keith. Likes him, even. If she didn’t, she would not have insisted on getting ready with him. 

Shiro leans back down into Keith’s space, but this time he speaks in a faux-whisper that’s meant to be heard. “She’s just jealous I’ve got someone pretty as you and all she’s got is Lotor on her arm.”

“Excuse me,” Allura and Lotor both say, tossing their long white hair over their shoulders in unison. Though, Lotor’s tone sounds a good deal more like real offense. 

Shiro laughs and wiggles his eyebrows teasingly at Allura, while she placates Lotor with soft whispers and kisses of her own. 

Engaged since childhood as the heirs to the Altea Inc and Daibazaal Corp fortunes, when Shiro first met them he genuinely thought there was no way they’d ever actually marry. Lotor had been running wild through the city. He was nearly disinherited by his father when he started getting into the restaurant and night club game. All while Allura was studying avidly in university and doing her utmost to bear the full burden her father had placed on her shoulders. But now, 15 years later, they’re in the healthiest relationship of their lives, properly engaged, and so in love it’s almost sickening.

Though Shiro finds their sweetness much more bearable now that he’s got Keith at his side and he’s no longer swimming in jealousy. 

“Ready?” Allura asks when they finally pull up to the venue.

Though it’s still early evening, the sky is dark as night, it is mid-December, after all. But the gala’s red carpet is lit up with enough spotlights and camera flashes that it could be midday.

Reports from every major newspaper and tech magazine are lined up between the cars and the venue, vying for photographs and pithy statements they can put in large, bold font to fill up space on their page. 

Usually, Shiro spends only the exact amount of time necessary at the red carpet before hurrying on into the gala itself. The photographers always want more from him, but Shiro, generally, has little patience for it at these kinds of events.

Tonight, however, Shiro has Keith on his arm!

Shiro parades Keith past every camera lens along the carpet, showing him off to the crowd. He drops Keith’s name every chance he gets. “Takashi Shirogane and his _date_ Keith Kogane,” ripples through the crowd of reporters. 

There are a few gossip magazines in the back. The kind that do specials on ‘World’s Most Eligible Bachelors,’ who love to add Shiro onto the list to show some corporate diversity from the line of tv and movie celebrities that fill their pages. 

Shiro wheels Keith over into their area and they go absolutely wild for him. They eat it up, asking Shiro and Keith both a flurry of questions about how they met, how long they’ve been together, what Keith does. They answer all the questions they feel like answering and none of the ones they don’t, and they stand for a thousand pictures before Shiro finally slips his hand into the small of Keith’s back and pulls them away.

Damn but Keith looks good in the limelight. It’s hard for Shiro to even pull him away, but eventually he knows he must.

There are much bigger fish he needs to charm tonight than a couple of reporters. 

“What a rush!” Keith says, awed, as they head through the doors and up into the ballroom for the event. His cheeks are pink, and his eyes are lit with adrenaline. It’s a very good look for him.

“You were perfect out there,” Shiro says, honestly. “I’m sure at least half the pictures they took are of you.” He leans close and tucks Keith’s hair behind his ear even though it’s unnecessary, there’s not a single hair out of place. Shiro just wants to touch him.

“They’re all of the both of us,” Keith insists, “because we look so good together.”

Shiro can’t argue with that. 

He glances around to check there’re no busy-bodies around and presses a quick kiss to Keith’s lips. Though it’s short, Shiro makes sure it’s a good one because it’s going to have to last him the next little while. Though he can touch Keith nearly all he likes, this isn’t the sort of place he can get away kissing the boy every time the whim takes him.

Events like these are like a battlefield, littered with landmines. Everyone wants something from everyone else and expects each other to act in certain ways. It’s tedious and exhausting. But tonight, for the first time in years, Shiro has a brother-in-arms at his side.

Keith captivates those he meets, executives and significant others alike. He rises to every joke, laughs as appropriate, shows the right amount of interest and shock at the gossip. He charms absolutely everyone, even Shiro.

Especially Shiro.

He’s so happy Keith finally broke the seal on saying ‘I love you’ because every chance Shiro gets he pulls Keith close to whisper it into the boy’s hair. Shiro restrains himself as best he can, but sometimes he can’t help it. It’s necessary. Keith needs to know. 

So, after Keith somehow successfully charmed Zarkon (he even made the old shark laugh!), Shiro tugs him close and whispers it, low and secretive.

“I love you.”

Keith blushes and beams. He’s a little bit useless for the next few minutes, just smiling to himself like he’s got a secret. But he soon snaps out of it and joins back into the fray. 

Shiro steers Keith around the ballroom, mingling with the various guests, solidifying connections and forging some new ones. As they move through the room, Shiro’s hands keep finding Keith’s back, his shoulder, even sometimes, when Shiro’s feeling cheeky, the back of Keith’s neck where Shiro can stroke a thumb just behind Keith’s ear where the touch is hidden by slicked-back hair. 

It’s late in the evening by the time everyone sits down and the speeches can begin. Allura introduces the keynote speaker and Shiro jogs up to the stage to give his address.

When he was writing it, Shiro thought of all the boring things he could say about project margins, revenue streams, efficiency; all those little things that are necessary to innovation. It’s the kind of thing he says to his shareholders when he’s convincing them to gamble with him on a new product. But this is an Innovation Gala, and Shiro wants to be more hopeful and optimistic. Something that’s much easier for him to feel now he’s got beautiful blue eyes watching him from the crowd.

So Shiro gives a speech about the drive of innovation, about the dream of a better future and the determination it takes to strive for it. He talks about bringing hope to the world, making people’s lives easier. Connecting people with ideas around the world. He talks briefly about the medical research at Daibazaal Corp, the peacekeeping technologies in development at Altea Inc, and his own work at Kerberos Tech in aviation and space exploration; how they’re all working to bring people together and keep people safe. 

He gets thunderous applause and a few standing ovations from the crowd when he’s done.

When he gets back to their table, Keith’s eyes are bright, sparkling like stars. He looks at Shiro with adoration and Shiro absolutely soaks it up. 

As soon as he sits, Keith is leaning into his space, giving Shiro a peck on the cheek, and whispering praise as the servers start to bring out the first course. They share a table with Allura, Lotor, Matt, and a few others from the industry, so they’re allowed their private moment for Keith to fawn over Shiro before the conversation starts up.

They talk and joke over four courses. By dessert, Matt has them all laughing so hard they’re drawing attention from other tables, and Keith nearly spits his champagne out his nose.

After the meal there are toasts, short speeches, and a lot of back-patting among the industry elite. It gets a bit tedious after a while, but at least Keith is there. He’s always ready with a sarcastic smile and a flippant remark in Shiro’s ear whenever necessary. 

It’s easily the best work event Shiro’s ever attended, and that’s before the dancing starts.

Keith isn’t the most confident dancer, but Shiro just uses that as an excuse to pull him close and spin him slowly across the dance floor. Allura and Lotor dance circles around them, while Matt entertains the wives and husbands of several industry giants.

A few try to split Shiro and Keith, they step in and whisk Keith out of Shiro’s arms like the thieves they are. 

It never lasts long. A single song, and that’s it. Keith is excellent at getting away smoothly, without bruising any egos, as he skips back to Shiro’s waiting arms. 

They end the night with a love song, Keith’s head resting lightly over Shiro’s heart. Right where it belongs. They hold each other gently as they sway to the music.

“Hey,” Keith whispers, drawing his fingers up to Shiro’s chin before letting them drop back and curl around Shiro’s neck.

“Hmm?” 

Keith’s hand is small in Shiro’s, held close to their chests. Shiro never wants to let go.

“I love you.”

Ahh.

Shiro closes his eyes and soaks in this moment.

“I love you, too.”

“Shiro?” Keith pulls back just enough to pin Shiro with a look. His eyes look quietly desperate. Calm, but with a depth of yearning that can’t be denied. “Take me home.”

It’s an order Shiro would never refuse. 

Their fingers are twined as they say goodbye to Lotor and Allura. And they just wave their farewell to Matt from across the room. 

Shiro gives the briefest thanks to Alfor for hosting the event this year before Keith is tugging him away. They rush down the stairs, fleeing just for the heck of it, just to feel the excitement of their feet pounding the pavement as they laugh and charge down to where the limo is waiting for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SOOOO sorry about the delay!!! I'm out of town for the weekend and I usually prep my chapters ahead of time when I do that, but I thought I had a solid chunk of prep time and then friendship happened instead and I got distracted.
> 
> BUT! I'm hoping Keith's confession makes up for the delay!!!
> 
> Did you guys see it coming? Did you like it? I'm so proud of my little baby, all grown up and able to speak his emotions! I don't even really have a hint for you about next chapter. Because.... we've got 2 chapters left, my peeps. So like... ... things are getting real!
> 
> omg, when this is done posting, I'm going to have to figure out what fic to post next..... huh! Maybe I'll do a poll, because I have a few options.
> 
> I love you all, and all your wonderful comments give me life! You can follow me if you like. I'm pretty silent these days, but I'm planning on posting lots of Sheith content again in the new few weeks once my life calms down a bit. <3<3
> 
> Twitter: [@WTuesdays](https://twitter.com/WTuesdays)  
> Tumblr: [WatermelonTuesdays](https://watermelontuesdays.tumblr.com/)


	17. In Which Everyone Wins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Shiro get hot and heavy after the gala.

Keith slides into the backseat first and Shiro hardly has time to shut the door behind him before Keith rolls into his lap and bears down on him with a hot mouth.

“Kee- Keef,” Shiro says around Keith’s lips, his bottom lip dragging between Keith’s teeth. 

He has to pull Keith by the hair and offer up his neck as substitute (both of which make Keith moan greedily) before he can lower the partition to speak to the driver and confirm their address.

Once done, the partition slides back up smoothly. 

The second it’s up, Shiro’s hands slide beneath Keith’s jacket and tug Keith’s shirt free so he can slide his palms over Keith’s back. The skin there is smoother than any silk shirt could ever hope to be.

“Oh, baby,” Shiro moans.

Keith pulls back for a moment, watching Shiro like he’s hungry. Ravenous. He descends like a raptor over its prey, circling over Shiro until their lips touch and teeth clash. It’s a wild, wet, ferocious passion between them now. 

Keith’s hips do dirty things in Shiro’s lap, eking out long groans and drawn-out moans. Keith licks the sounds from Shiro’s lips, his hands alternating between pinning Shiro to the seat and clawing at Shiro’s suit. 

“Keith,” Shiro moans, his nails digging into the boy’s spine while his metal hand reaches lower to cup at Keith’s ass. One finger slots between the crease of Keith’s pants and Keith absolutely keens at the touch, angling his hips back into Shiro’s hand. “Baby.”

“I want you, Shiro.” Keith pushes Shiro back, hard, into the seat and locks him with a fiery look. “ _Takashi_ , I want you.”

Desire boils through Shiro and bubbles over. He pulls Keith against him as hard and tight as he can, spreading Keith’s thighs so they grind together. It’s almost painful, but it’s still not close enough. Shiro digs his tongue into Keith’s mouth possessively. 

“Say it again,” Shiro begs, his lips still moving against Keith’s.

“ _Takashi_.”

Shiro makes a desperate noise and kisses Keith harder. Holds him closer. 

He pushes himself forward, needing to be closer even though there’s already no space left between them. It forces Keith to bend backwards, which takes the boy’s mouth out of reach. So Shiro ducks his head and bites into Keith’s neck. He sucks the same spot, marking the boy up possessively.

“Ahh,” Keith sighs, “Takashi, yes.” 

Shiro paws at Keith like a wild animal, making growling noises as he sucks and nibbles at Keith’s skin. 

“Ahh, I love you,” Shiro says, frantically, against Keith’s neck. He kisses and bites down Keith’s chest, pulling the buttons apart with fingers and teeth, nearly ripping that million-dollar suit. Shiro doesn’t care about the expense. He doesn’t care that he’s marking the boy up like an unruly teenager. He doesn’t care about anything but the firecracker in his hands. “I love you,” he says again, pressing the words into Keith’s collar bone. “I love you.” 

Keith’s fingers slip through Shiro’s hair, pinning him place, holding Shiro over Keith’s heart so he can say it directly. 

“I love you.” He kisses Keith’s heart with lips and tongue and a bit of teeth. His hands find Keith’s ass again and he pulls the boy close. His hips move in turn and they meet with a crash that forces the breath out of them both. “Fuck, baby. I want you. I want you so bad, I’m going to burst.”

“Yes, Shiro!” Keith agrees, but he doesn’t sound like he’s even paying attention. He’s rocking onto Shiro’s lap and back into Shiro’s hand, eyes squeezed shut like he’s trying to finish himself off right here in the back of the limo.

“Fuck, baby. Tell me what you want. Tell me anything. What do you _need?_ ”

“Takashi..!” 

The car lurches then, and they both nearly smack their heads, but they’re too lost in each other to really notice. The limo driver knocks on the partition, and they don’t notice that either. Keith’s lips are too sweet, and his moans are too delicious for Shiro to hear anything else.

Then the driver bangs on the partition, and Shiro finally clues in.

“We’re home, baby. Come on. We gotta go inside.”

Keith looks owlish and disoriented, blinking at the limo like he had no idea they were still in it. 

“Oh…. ok…” They stumble out into the streetlights like drunks. 

Shiro tips the limo driver a few hundred – he knows they’re paid for their discretion, but it never hurts to pad the coffers. 

He turns to Keith as the driver takes off. Keith is a mess. His slicked back hair is knotted and hanging in front of his face in gelled strings. His shirt is half-open, with dark, shining, spit-slicked marks along his neck and chest. His lips are kiss-stained a bright red. His pants look uncomfortably tight.

Shiro looks no better, he’s sure. 

He runs a hand through his hair and rubs over his cheeks before he takes Keith’s hand and they head inside.

“Jeez, Takashi,” Keith murmurs as they push through the doors, “If I’d’a known it’d get you to act like that, I would’a called you by your name weeks ago.”

Shiro blushes and squeezes Keith’s hand.

Coran is there to greet them, just as always.

“Good evening sirs! Did you have fun at the gala?” he asks, no doubt about to launch into a story about his gala-going days, whenever those were.

“G’night Coran,” Shiro says stiffly, powering through the lobby with Keith in tow. 

“Ah, yes. Good night, Mr. Shirogane.” There’s maybe a bit too much twinkle in Coran’s eye as he watches them rush to the elevator, but he doesn’t say anything more. Shiro makes a mental note to pad Coran’s Christmas bonus with a few more bills as well.

The wait for the elevator is excruciating. It takes its sweet time descending down to the lobby and the doors open just as slowly. 

When they close, Shiro finds himself with a handful of Keith, those long legs wrapped around his waist, arms tight around his neck. It nearly keels him over, but Shiro stands his ground and within a moment he’s swept away once again. 

Keith tastes delicious. Like champagne and chocolate torte. 

Shiro tries to lick it out of his mouth.

The doors open to the penthouse, but Keith doesn’t drop back to his own feet. Shiro stumbles them forward, moving blind, his mouth still trapped against Keith’s. They crash into the door with a bang and groan into the kiss, but still they don’t stop. 

If anything, they go harder. Shiro digs his feet into the ground and rolls his hips, grinding himself hard against Keith. 

Their twin bulges rub and squeeze tight against each other.

“Ahh! Daddy!” Keith cries, pulling away to catch his breath. “Want you. Want you, daddy. Please.”

Oh, Shiro likes that. 

He likes that _a lot!_

“Yeah, baby?” he rolls his hips again and they’re both unable to speak for another minute. They bite and suck along each other’s skins, Keith’s nails digging into Shiro’s jacket and nearly ripping the expensive white fabric. 

It’s Keith, finally, who tears his mouth away and growls, “Take me to bed, daddy.” His nails dig menacingly into Shiro’s back, and Shiro just laughs into Keith’s throat.

“Ok, baby.” He steps back and lets Keith drop to the floor.

It takes an embarrassing three tries to unlock the door; Shiro’s hands are shaking with barely controlled desire and he can hardly manage the small buttons. 

Keith enters first, kicking off his shoes and moving quickly into the apartment, giving Shiro a moment to catch his breath and recollect himself. He feels wild, like a caveman. It’s thrilling, it’s fun, but he needs a moment to calm his racing heart.

Keith called him by his given name! It filled him with potent desire, but now, looking back, Shiro can’t do anything but grin foolishly. He loves this kid _so much!_ So, so much! 

“Takashi?” Keith asks from down the hall, standing in profile and pulling his hair into a bun.

Shiro giggles like a child.

“I’m going to take a shower, ok?”

Shiro nods. It doesn’t sound like an invitation, and it feels even less like one when Keith takes off alone. So Shiro takes the extra time to breathe. 

It’s just another night of Keith’s torment.

He shuffles into the bedroom and pulls off his suit, hanging it in the bag for the dry cleaners. Then he picks Keith’s suit off the floor and does the same. He slips into his comfy sleep pants and finds the make up remover cloths the stylists left him. 

That done, Shiro settles under the covers to wait for Keith to turn off the lights. He puts his hands behind his head and thinks back over the last 24 hours. So much has happened and not a single part of it was bad. Shiro feels blessed. Touched by an angel.

Only that angel wear sinfully tight pants and moves like the devil. 

And loves him!

Keith loves him. It’s hard to wrap his head around. 

Sure, Shiro’s been in love with Keith for months now – for as long as he’s known him. That’s only natural. Who wouldn’t love Keith? He’s a bottle-rocket in paint-on jeans. He’s wild and funny and confident. And intelligent. And wonderful. And just…

_Keith._

And yes, maybe Shiro would be lying if he said he didn’t suspect the depths of Keith’s feelings for him. The boy has shown and shared too much with Shiro to ignore those signs. But love is something different! Love is the real deal!

Shiro knows Keith too well to think Keith said it on a whim, or because he felt like he had to, or because he thought maybe he did but wasn’t sure. If Keith said it, he meant it. 

He means it.

He loves Shiro.

Ahh!

Shiro kicks his legs under the blankets like an excited toddler. He can’t help it; Keith just makes him giddy all over!

Plus, he said Shiro’s given name. 

‘Takashi’ has never sounded so good. Not from Shiro’s first love. Not in all the years of Shiro’s marriage. Not ever.

Not until Keith.

There’s a bubble of emotion that’s been growing in Shiro’s chest from that first night when Keith fed him caviar and offered to sleep with him in exchange for a night in a real bed. They’ve come so far in such a short time, and that bubble has only grown. It feels larger than Shiro now. It feels all-encompassing. 

Never ending.

The shower stops and Shiro listens to the sounds of Keith towelling off. He’s been in the shower a while. Shiro hadn’t even really noticed, he’s been so lost in thought. But now that the sound of the running water has stopped, he realizes that the steady noise was lulling him. Shiro is relaxed. His eyes are closed. He’s almost ready for sleep.

Keith’s voice, sharp and incredulous, is loud enough to startle Shiro from his half-doze, “Are you sleeping?”

“No,” Shiro gives a lazy smile and slowly opens his eyes to see Keith standing naked across the room. “Just thinking.”

“What’re you thinking about?” Keith moves to the door and dims the lights.

Shiro’s smile grows. “You love me.”

“Dork.” Keith steps close to the bed. His body is still flushed from the warm water, his hair dripping down his back and over his chest. Like jewels adorning his body.

Keith reaches for the lamp and flicks it off. The room is very dim, but Shiro’s eyes adjust quickly. It shrinks the room down to just this bed, and gives them a quiet, intimate ambiance. Keith pulls back the covers and slips in on Shiro’s side of the bed, moving until his warm body covers over Shiro, fitting them together like puzzle pieces.

“You can’t take it back now,” Shiro teases. “You love me.”

“I won’t take it back.” 

Shiro’s hands settle at the small of Keith’s back. Just holding him. Their hearts beat together, chests expanding in tandem as they lay there. Keith’s back is arched just enough that he can look into Shiro’s eyes.

From that very first night, Keith’s eyes have captivated Shiro. There’s nothing else like them in the universe. So clever, so bright, so deep. 

So earnest. They cut through Shiro like a scalpel, revealing his deepest parts.

“Ask me,” Keith says. His voice is quiet and sweet.

Shiro doesn’t pretend not to know what he’s talking about.

“I can’t,” he whispers in return. “I’ll only ever give you what you want.” It’s a game, but it’s not just a game to Shiro. He’ll never want anything Keith isn’t willing to give.

“Damn you, Shiro.” Keith’s lips press Shiro down into the pillow. 

Shiro goes down easily, opening up for Keith, letting the boy take control. That spark that’s always waiting, sitting just under Shiro’s skin, flickers to life and blooms into flame beneath Keith’s touch.

Keith leads Shiro through a greedy kiss. When he pulls back, Shiro chases those lips, captures him in another kiss. And then another. 

It’s almost a fight they way they move together, but there are no losers here. Keith keeps Shiro pinned down, takes what he likes. He rocks his body down over Shiro’s until breathing becomes difficult. 

Shiro flings the blankets aside just so they don’t suffocate in their own heat.

“Don’t you want me, daddy?” Keith asks, running his teeth along Shiro’s lip and pulling till it snaps back with a wet sound. “Hmm?” His hand snakes low and he digs the heel of his palm into Shiro’s bulging pants.

“I do, baby, I do.” Keith should be able to tell with the way Shiro’s burning for him. By the way Shiro’s fingers are tangled in Keith’s hair, unwilling to let the boy go. By the heat rolling out from under Keith’s touch on Shiro’s cock.

“Then _why_ did you put these on? You trying to keep me away?” 

Shiro shakes his head. Never. He’d never deny Keith anything.

Soft little hands slip under the elastic of Shiro’s pants, and that’s all the command Shiro needs. He releases Keith’s hair to wrench at the fabric, clawing at it to get them down. The elastic grabs at Shiro’s skin, resisting the curve of Shiro’s ass and hooking on his swollen cock. So, Shiro digs in his heels and lifts himself up, Keith still in his lap.

Keith gives a small “whoop” as Shiro lifts them both, and his hands help snatch the fabric down to Shiro’s thigh.

The boy jumps on Shiro’s dick like it’s all he’s been waiting for, crushing Shiro under his weight and rocking so Shiro slides between his cheeks.

Shiro makes a wholly unsexy, punched-out noise as his cock is enveloped by Keith’s sweet cheeks and pressed down into his abdomen for Keith to ride. 

“Fuck, baby!” Shiro growls, “is that what you want?” Shiro’s hands grip at Keith’s ass, the tips of his fingers burying into Keith’s cheeks and spreading them. He pulls Keith overtop of himself, rutting up into the boy’s heat until they’re almost fucking. 

So fucking _close_ , but still not there! 

Shiro grinds his teeth as precum splashes against his belly. 

“Daddy,” Keith whines, like Shiro is denying him something he’s been asking for. “Come on, daddy, don’t you want me?”

Shiro lifts his hips again, lifting them both off the bed as he crushes himself into Keith. “I want you so bad, baby. You’re all I want.” He catches Keith’s eyes and holds a steady gaze. “Only you.”

Keith shuts his eyes tight and a tear tracks down his face as he ruts down against Shiro, rubbing his hole along Shiro’s dick.

“You’re so frustrating, Shiro.” He pulls his hands into fists and beats weakly at Shiro’s chest.

Without warning, he flings himself down and pries Shiro’s mouth open with a tongue. Keith takes everything Shiro has - Shiro’s breath, his heart, his mind – until he’s nothing but a livewire, a single nerve that moves for Keith’s pleasure. 

“Give me what I want,” Keith says, pulling back just enough for Shiro to get the full impact of his wide, perfect, blue eyes. “Please, daddy.” 

There’s a hint of a beg in Keith’s tone, but it’s not enough.

“You need to tell me what you want, baby.” Shiro lifts a hand to smooth it down Keith’s hair, tucking the wild, damp strand back into place. He slows his hips and bites back his grin when the slowed pace drives Keith absolutely wild.

Keith makes a long, drawn out, angry whine and drags his nails across Shiro’s shoulder. 

“Daddy!”

“Anything you want, precious,” Shiro says. He kisses the end of Keith’s nose.

“Then _Fuck Me, Daddy!!_ ” Keith cries, more tears gathering at the corner of his eyes. Shiro isn’t sure whether they’re tears of frustration or overwhelming devotion, but either seems equally likely at this point.

Rather than answer, Shiro drops his hands to Keith’s thighs, holds the boy down, and fucks up into the cleft of Keith’s sweet, sweet ass with all his might. 

“Get me the lube, baby. Gotta get you stretched and ready for daddy’s cock.” He whispers it lewdly into Keith’s ear. 

Keith absolutely scrambles for the bedside table to dig out the lube Shiro saw him stash there weeks ago. Rather than help, Shiro rocks himself against Keith again and presses biting kisses onto Keith’s ribs as the boy twists half-off the bed in his rush. 

“ _Takashi_ ,” Keith says in warning, but Shiro just laughs. He bites a little harder along Keith’s side.

He smooths a finger down, down, down between Keith’s legs to tease at Keith’s rim, making the boy fumble even further in his quest for lubricant.

Shiro chuckles, “Having trouble?” He swipes his finger along Keith’s rim again. 

He means just to give a little taste, a little tease, but when Shiro presses the tip of his finger in, he slides in to the first knuckle with little resistance. 

“Baby!” Shiro cries, shocked at the same time Keith moans, “Daaaddyy!”

Next thing Shiro knows, he’s being hit in the face with a bottle of lube and Keith is writhing to get back in his lap and fuck himself further on Shiro’s finger. 

“What were you doing in the shower, baby?” Shiro arches an eyebrow playfully. 

He reaches for the lube, but Keith beats him to it, snatching the bottle from the pillow and taking Shiro’s hand by the wrist. He pulls Shiro’s hand around and pours a generous dollop of lube over all four fingers. Then he spreads it himself and pushes Shiro’s hand back around him.

“I was getting myself ready for you.” Keith’s expression turns to the most ridiculous look of fake innocence Shiro’s ever seen, “I wanted to be good for you.”

Shiro snorts a laugh, fully charmed by the firecracker in his lap.

“Well, lets see how good you did.” 

Shiro slides two fingers into Keith with little resistance, so he pulls out and pushes in three, just to see how Keith’s takes it.

Like a fucking _dream_ is how Keith takes it.

He arches his back, pivoting his hips into Shiro’s grasp to make sure he takes every inch Shiro can offer him. 

“Mmm,” Keith makes a cute little sound, like he’s finally satisfied, and sighs a soft “Daddy.” 

Then Keith’s slicked-up hand descends over Shiro’s cock and runs over him with a smooth, loose grip. It takes real concentration for Shiro to continue moving his fingers in and out of Keith while his dick is stroked like this. His metal hand twists in the blankets, fisting a grip around the covers. His eyes close as his brain starts to short out.

Keith drops Shiro’s cock like it bit him.

“Fuck, you’re not going to blow on me first thing, are you daddy?”

The thing is…. Shiro might.

Not that that’s a thing. Maybe it is for some men, but not Shiro. Except that they’ve been at this for months, and Shiro, despite ample opportunity, has never cheated at their game. He has not gotten off once since meeting Keith that cold September night. 

And Keith knows this. He knows exactly how desperate he’s made Shiro.

Shiro gives Keith a weak look. “Keith…”

Keith rolls his eyes and snatches Shiro’s metal hand from the bed. He fits Shiro’s fingers around the base of Shiro’s dick in a near-death grip and tells Shiro to hold on tight. “Because you’re not coming until I’m done with you, daddy.” 

Then Keith lifts himself up off Shiro’s fingers with a wet ‘puck’ and lowers himself, smooth and slow, over Shiro’s cock.

Shiro’s entire body rolls in on itself as he fights the sweet temptation to come. Keith’s body is hot, and wet, and tight. It’s swallowing Shiro up whole and grappling at him like it’s trying to steal Shiro’s dick for itself. 

Keith gives no mercy, either. He doesn’t give Shiro time to adjust. He doesn’t work Shiro’s thick cock in inch by inch the way other men have in the past. No. Keith slides all the way down until his ass is sitting on Shiro’s metal hand.

And then he _squeezes_.

Shiro makes a ruined sound and digs his nails into Keith’s ass cheek because the boy is fucking strangling him. He just sits over Shiro, balls deep, and pulsates like he’s trying to map out the feel of every throbbing inch of Shiro inside him.

It’s undeniably hot.

Even just as proof of how desperate Keith has been to have Shiro inside him it’s hot, let alone to actually feel that desire gripping down on Shiro’s cock like it’s trying to milk him.

“Kee-ith… babe-baby… I’m…” 

Keith shushes him sweetly and taps at his metal prothesis to remind Shiro to keep his grip tight. Then he sets his feet into the mattress and begins to ride Shiro for all he’s worth.

Shiro is a sputtering, overworked mess within seconds. He has very little grip on reality except for the tight movements of Keith as he rides up and down, pounding them both into the mattress. He tries to help as best he can, but mostly he thinks he just ends up clinging to the boy while simultaneously strangling his own cock into submission. 

He should’ve bought a cock ring.

“Oh, I’ve got one, but where’s the challenge in that?” 

Keith looks like an actual devil as he grins down at Shiro. His fingers claw down Shiro’s chest as he rides hard and fast. 

Then Keith straightens his back, twisting his hips with each drop over Shiro. His hands part through his own hair, pulling it off his shoulders.

He looks like a fucking wet dream. Like an ethereal creature. He can’t be human. He can’t be Shiro’s.

No man is that lucky.

Keith hums low in his throat, closing his eyes as he savours the stretch of Shiro inside him.

He looks so damn good. But… a small part of Shiro’s brain supplies a way he could look _much_ better.

Shiro takes a deep, steadying breath, then lets go of his cock. His hands fly to Keith’s hips and land with a slap that reverberates through the room. 

“Oh?” Keith says, looking intrigued for a moment before his eyes roll back. Because Shiro grips Keith by the hips, sets his feet into the mattress, and fucks himself up, _hard_ , into Keith.

It sends Keith bouncing, dropping hard back down to meet Shiro’s next thrust. 

“Yes! Oh fuck YES! Daddy! Just like that. _Fuck me_ , wreck me, Takashi.”

Shiro grits his teeth, fighting off the waves of pleasure that threatens to spill out of him. He fucks with abandon. He lets his inner brute out and really gives it to Keith.

Keith takes it all like a champion. His head lulls with every sharp thrust, his eyes rolled back in ecstasy. He makes these perfect, whining grunts with every slap of Shiro’s hips. 

This is what Shiro wanted to see.

“God you’re beautiful baby. I knew you’d look so good like this, but this is even better. You’re so perfect.” Shiro slides his hands up Keith’s sides for a brief pet before they lock back over Keith’s hips and fuck the boy even harder. 

“Ta- Kashi,” Keith starts to whimper, nearing his end. He reaches out for something to hold onto and lands on Shiro’s arms. He digs his nails in, the bite giving Shiro just enough clarity to fight off another orgasm.

“That’s it, baby. Say my name. You make me feel so good.”

“‘Kashi,” Keith sighs. 

The boy’s legs are starting to slow, leaving more and more of the pounding up to Shiro. 

“Come on, baby. Come for me. Show me how much you like daddy’s cock.”

“Daddy,” Keith repeats weakly. 

He drops a hand to himself and fists his swollen, red, perfect, little cock with a loose fist. He drops more heavily onto Shiro’s cock, and clenches tighter and tighter. 

Shiro’s eyes roll back into his head and his grip turns rock solid as Keith squeezes the life out of him.

“Baby! Baby! I’m gonna come – oohhh, baby, come for me. Please, you gotta. You gotta let me come,” Shiro absolutely begs, his voice wrecked and desperate.

He wants to look; he wants to see Keith wrapped around his cock and strung out on pleasure. He doesn’t want to miss a moment of it. But he can’t. 

If Shiro looks at Keith right now, there’ll be no way he can hold himself back. He’ll empty everything into the boy.

Keith’s hips slow some more, and it’s getting harder and harder for Shiro to keep up this pace. His whole body is singing with passion and he just wants to let it all out.

He gropes blind over Keith’s body with his flesh hand, following the curve of Keith’s hips until he secures his hand around Keith’s cock. Keith drops himself without complaint, allowing Shiro to fist him tight. 

Shiro grips Keith so tight it’s almost too much and fucks up into the boy as hard as his body will let him.

“Shi-rooooo,” Keith moans, sounding thoroughly fucked out. 

“Come on, baby. Come for me,” Shiro urges, stroking hard and fast and fucking every moan he can out of Keith’s body.

Keith comes with a raspy “fuuuuuck!” and a hot splatter of cum along Shiro’s chest. His ass turns into a vice around Shiro, pulsating and milking him like a fucking machine. 

“Christ! Keith!” Shiro cries. He forces his eyes open to watch Keith’s lithe body ride out his high. His cock bursts with cum that drips along Shiro’s stomach and down his hand. His hair is a tangled mess, his mouth is hung open with pleasure and his eyes still squeezed shut as every thrust sends another squirt of cum over Shiro’s body. 

Shiro follows suit a moment later, letting that wave of pleasure that’s been threatening to overtake him finally sweep him away.

“Fuck, baby, I love you,” Shiro sighs as he pours into Keith. The boy milks him perfectly. That tight little body is the perfect fit for Shiro’s seed and Shiro fucks it in deep. His vision blacks out for a moment, the both of them still moving together, though their thrusts are just echoes of what they once were. 

Shiro rides the buzz of orgasm as it rushes all the way down through his toes.

“Sh-Shiro,” Keith warns and touches a hand to Shiro’s arm.

Shiro drops Keith’s cock like it’s fire. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Keith drops like a lead onto Shiro’s chest, and they both groan on impact then quickly curl around each other, sharing a pillow. “That was perfect.”

“You liked it?” Shiro is very sore and extremely tired – and completely blissed out from what was definitely the best orgasm of his life. He’s about seconds away from sleep, but still somehow, he finds the energy to curl a finger over Keith’s cheek and tuck some of his crazy hair out of the way. 

“Mmm hmm.” 

Keith gives Shiro a small, sweet smile. It’s a smile like a secret between them. His eyes are bright in the afterglow of their lovemaking. 

“That was the best I’ve ever had,” Shiro says. Well, more like whispers. The dim room and the quiet moment between them leaves no room for loud voices. “ _You’re_ the best I’ve ever had.” Shiro closes his eyes and kisses Keith, sweet and gentle. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Keith’s blush is visible even in the half-light. “You’re just saying that because you got off.”

“Never.” Shiro’s voice stays quiet, but the sincerity in it makes Keith’s breath stop and his expression go wide like a deer in the headlights. “That was special because it was you. Not for anything else.”

“You…” Keith’s voice is raspy and thick with emotion, so he clears his throat and tries again. “You really love me.”

It’s not exactly a question, but it almost has the cadence of one. Or maybe it’s more like awe.

Maybe it’s Keith finally realizing this is the truth.

“I really, really do.” 

Shiro nuzzles close and kisses Keith’s cheek. Then he squishes his face down between Keith and the pillows until Keith is forced to turn his head, giving Shiro access to his ear.

Shiro whispers, “I love you. And that’s not ever going to change.”

Keith’s next breath shudders in his chest.

“Hold me?” Keith says in a small voice.

Shiro would like nothing more. He gathers Keith up in his arms and pulls the blankets back over them to keep Keith from getting cold as the boy starts to shake with tears.

Keith turns in Shiro’s hold, pressing his face down into Shiro’s chest. Leaving wet trails along Shiro’s skin. Seeking the comfort and strength of Shiro’s body. And Shiro just holds him as he cries. He strokes down Keith’s back and pets through his hair, and makes soft, soothing noises as Keith lets it all out.

“St-stupid,” Keith murmurs against Shiro’s chest.

“You’re not stupid, Keith. Never stupid.”

Keith shakes his head and it rubs more tears into Shiro’s skin. “I don’t even know if this is because I’m happy or sad.”

Shiro’s heart melts. He kisses Keith’s hair. 

“It can be both.”

“I-it’s just… no one’s ever lo-loved me before…” Keith buries himself deeper into their little cocoon as the tears overtake him again.

Ahh…

Yes, Shiro can see how that’s both happy and sad. Happy because he’s finally got what he’s always wanted, and sad because he’s never had it before. Or at least, not in a very long time.

A part of Shiro wants to assure Keith that’s not true. His father loved him. His friends love him. Surely there’s more; the way Kolivan spoke about him back in Arizona makes Shiro believe there’s more good feeling between them than either would admit. But this is different. 

This is Keith coming to grips with the fact that all this is real. That Shiro loves him as more than just a warm body in his bed. 

This is Keith letting go of whatever fear held him back from telling Shiro ‘I love you’ earlier. 

They lay together until Keith has cried himself out and he pokes his sheepish head out from under the blankets. Then they pad off to the shower, where they sit together on the floor under the warm stream and wash each other’s hair and swap wet kisses back and forth. 

When they get back to bed, they take the path of least resistance and curl up on Keith’s side of the bed where it’s nice and dry. Keith uses Shiro’s arm as a pillow and Shiro uses Keith as a blanket. They fall asleep between one “I love you” and the next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T.T Is anyone else crying??? Just me and Keith?? Cool, cool, cool. I'm just so close to done! And I can't believe this is almost over. It doesn't feel real!
> 
> So, show of hands. Who expected Keith to be the one who breaks???? XD I've been holding this in for 17 chapters!!!! Ahhhhh!!!! I can say this now, the entire premise of this fic was Keith torments Shiro to the point where he gets himself so horny _HE_ breaks! That was it. That's all I wanted. And 18 chapters later, I have a fic, ha ha ha. 
> 
> There's still one more chapter. There's some bottom Shiro ahead, and an epilogue, so stay tuned. There's more happy endings ahead!
> 
> And thanks so much for coming on this wild ride with me, everyone! I have been loving your comments and everything! I hope you all stick around for the last chapter. And I love you all to bits!
> 
> Feel free to follow me. I have more fics coming once Tease is done.  
> Twitter: [@WTuesdays](https://twitter.com/WTuesdays)  
> Tumblr: [WatermelonTuesdays](https://watermelontuesdays.tumblr.com/)


	18. Epilogue: Christmas Joy(ride)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang celebrates Christmas, Keith thanks Shiro for his present, and an epilogue we all deserve.

Christmas in the penthouse is quite the affair this year. 

Lance and Hunk come over the night before to stay in the guest room. Lance spends most of the evening with Keith, decorating the apartment and bickering over anything and everything. Meanwhile, Hunk goes through the laundry-list of foods and baking supplies he had Shiro buy for Christmas. He gives Shiro judgmental looks the more he learns of Shiro’s cooking habits, like how Shiro didn’t even own a roasting pan before Hunk’s list. 

The rest of Christmas Eve is spent watching Christmas movies in the entertainment room. They go to bed early so that Hunk can wake up at the crack of dawn and start putting all his new cooking techniques to practice. 

Lance thanks Shiro roughly 1000 times for giving Hunk the culinary scholarship. He keeps patting his stomach and dreaming loudly about how fat he’s going to get from his boyfriend’s new skills. 

Christmas morning they exchange a few presents, and Shiro encounters the unique problem of trying to stem Keith’s libido after he’s been given the keys to his new Ferrari. Keith does not give a single shit about his friends being present, and it’s all Shiro can do to keep his clothes on as he combats Keith’s persistent fingers.

In the end, Lance has to sit on Keith until he calms down.

After lunch, Matt and Pidge arrive with presents from the Holt family and a bottle of scotch. Soon after Allura and Lotor show up with a cartload of liquor and suddenly Shiro has a full house. 

Lance immediately gets along with Pidge and Allura, though he ingratiates himself to Allura and little too well for him to win Lotor over. Hunk becomes everyone’s favourite once he brings out his Christmas feast, and by the end of dinner he has Lotor’s card and reasonable assurance of work at any of Lotor’s restaurants. 

After a few hours, and a few dozen drinks, everyone’s getting along like a big, happy family. 

Shiro spies Keith perched on the arm of a chair in the white living room, just watching as everyone else talks and laughs. Shiro moves in slowly, doing his best not to attract attention until he sinks down into the seat beside Keith and pulls the boy into his lap.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Keith replies, sinking into Shiro’s embrace. 

“Having a good time?”

Keith nods, his eyes still scanning their friends, watching them all interact. 

“They’re all getting along. It’s nice.”

“It is,” Shiro agrees. 

He waits Keith out.

“It’s like… a family.” Keith goes quiet at the last part, like he’s embarrassed he’ll be overheard.

Shiro nods. “They are like a family. _Our_ family.”

Keith turns to Shiro with a snicker, “dork,” he says. But his eyes are earnest as they look into Shiro’s, hunting for any sign he’s being teased. He relaxes when he sees nothing but affection in Shiro’s gaze. He leans in for a kiss.

“Hey! No being gross!” Lance calls from across the room. “I’ll sit on you again!”

“Try it, McClain!” Keith shouts back, and soon the entire group is cheering them on while the two boys thumb wrestle in the middle of the room. 

The next day, Keith is antsy. He fidgets and paces and sighs until Shiro finally gives in and they take the Ferrari out for a test drive.

The streets are half-empty because of boxing day, and it’s still mild enough this time of year for the roads to be clear of ice and snow. Meaning Keith speeds through town taking curves on a hairpin and giving Shiro’s heart all the exercise it needs for the rest of the year.

Keith takes them out of town and down that old stretch of road where Shiro took him back when they first met.

Keith drives like a demon with his ass on fire. He puts his new car through all it’s paces, then slides it to a smooth stop along the side of the road, miles out of town. 

He gets out and for a hot second, Shiro thinks he’s going to be allowed to drive Keith’s new baby. But he’s sorely mistaken. He meets Keith in front of the car and is quickly manhandled onto the hood so Keith can jump into his lap and kiss him senseless.

“I love my present, daddy,” Keith says, pressing a kiss against Shiro’s racing pulse. He doesn’t give Shiro a chance to respond, occupying Shiro’s lips in a lasting kiss. It’s damn cold out in late December, but Keith keeps them warm enough.

They drive back at a far more reasonable speed. It’s still many mph over the limit, but considering it’s Keith, it’s reasonable. It puts Shiro a little on edge, because Keith has no reason to be driving so carefully.

And then, a few minutes into their return trip, Keith’s hand sneaks over, across the gearstick, and rubs over Shiro’s crotch.

“Keith! What’re you..?”

The devilish grin on Keith’s lips stops Shiro’s question in his throat. 

“Showing you how much I like the present, daddy.” 

Keith doesn’t take his eyes from the road, but he manages to unzip Shiro’s pants and work him up with a nice loose fist. 

Shiro grips at the handle above the door as he’s toyed with. He watches Keith, who’s eyes never leave the road. The car doesn’t veer from the centre of their lane either.

So, Shiro relaxes. He lets Keith play with him.

And it is just playing. Keith knows exactly how to drive Shiro wild without ever tipping him over the edge – it’s a skill he’s honed well over the last several months. He knows exactly how tight to hold, how to twist and where to rub to make Shiro feel like he’s going crazy without it being enough. 

Keith laughs when Shiro starts to audibly pant in the passenger seat, his hips rocking steadily into Keith’s hand.

“Look at you, daddy,” Keith says with a quick glance over when they stop at a red light. They’re already back in town and Shiro did not even notice. “You’re looking a little flushed.”

Keith runs his thumb over the tip of Shiro’s cock and sucks it quickly into his mouth, moaning at the taste before he’s back around Shiro and speeding off down another side street. He’s taking the long way home.

“Ahhh, Keith,” Shiro sighs, his brain conjuring all the different ways he and Keith are going to take each other apart the moment they get home.

They’re hardly pulled into Keith’s parking space before Shiro is out of the car and tucking himself back into his jeans.

God! why did he have to wear jeans today? He really should have seen this coming.

Keith just laughs as Shiro hurries him to the elevator and into the penthouse, crowding over Keith and nearly rutting against the boy as they move through the building. 

Once they’re upstairs and safe behind their locked door, Keith becomes the pushy one. He presses Shiro backwards with two hands firm over Shiro’s pecs. He chases Shiro all the way to their bed and forces Shiro down, tugging at his clothes until Shiro is naked and positioned on his knees just the way Keith wants him.

“You’re so good to me, daddy,” Keith praises, running his warm hands down Shiro’s back and over his ass. He massages at Shiro’s glutes, digging his thumbs into Shiro’s flesh in slow circles. “You spoil me so well. And now it’s my turn to spoil you.” He lowers himself to drop a quick kiss over one of Shiro’s cheeks, biting swiftly at the other before he slides off the bed and goes to the side table.

He takes their new bottle of lube and tosses it, so it lands right under Shiro’s nose. 

“What’d’ya think, big guy?”

Shiro thinks a lot of things: mainly, ‘ _god!_ yes please!’ and ‘yesyesyesyesyes.’ What he says is an incomprehensible grunting noise coupled with an enthusiastic nod of his head.

“Use your words, daddy,” Keith says gleefully as he kneels behind Shiro again and rubs his palms in a circle over Shiro’s ass.

Instinctively, Shiro moves down to his elbows.

“Please, baby.”

“You want this?” Keith brushes the pad of a finger across Shiro’s hole, spiking red hot desire through Shiro’s entire core.

“Yes! Baby! I want it. Please.”

Keith bites Shiro’s ass again, and it sends another jolt of electricity through him. 

“So polite. Well,” Keith sighs dramatically, “if you want my cock, you’d better open yourself up for me.”

Oh god!

He’s got to do it himself? With Keith watching? Kneeling just behind him?

Shiro’s whole body shivers with excitement. It’s so damn hot. 

He fumbles for the lube, nearly knocking it off the bed in his haste to get it open and slick his finger up. Keith’s hands are still on his ass, rubbing and randomly prying his cheeks open. He blows a stream of warm air over Shiro’s ass and giggles when Shiro contracts himself.

“Baby, you’re teasing me,” Shiro whines.

Keith licks a stripe over Shiro’s ass, from thigh to lower back. “Never, daddy.”

Shiro groans and shifts himself to balance on his shoulders so he can reach back and dip his finger into his hole. It’s been such a long time since he’s done this. Ages since he’s had anything stretching him open, and even longer since he’s done it himself. Most men Shiro’s ever slept with get off on having Shiro’s massive body weighing them down on the bed, they act like it’s his place to top: but not Keith.

No! Of course, not Keith. 

Keith tuts at Shiro for going too quickly.

“Slow down, daddy, give me a show.” 

Shiro groans, but he does just that. He circles himself, trails down along his taint and rubs it in slow strokes before coming back up to tease himself open. He gets himself to the first knuckle and tugs at his own rim to feel the stretch, before he circles again. 

Keith is humming his approval, licking his lips like a hungry wolf. Though Shiro can’t see, he can feel those sharp blue eyes watching his every move. Keith’s hands keep working over Shiro’s ass, then drop low to stroke along his thighs and tickle at the back of his knees. He drops unpredictable kisses and bites along Shiro’s skin.

Shiro works himself to taking his whole finger, still teasing at himself. The stretch is magnificent and Shiro just wants to give himself more, but Keith wants a show, so Shiro drops back again and digs his nails into his cheek. His hips move on their own accord, seeking more of that delicious stretch.

Keith whistles. 

“Look at you. So delicious.” He strokes his thumb over Shiro’s winking hole and it makes Shiro tremble with desire. “Think you can do two fingers for me, daddy?”

Shiro nods, his head rubbing against the blankets, before he remembers his words. “Yes, baby. I can do two.” 

He drops his index and ring finger together and rubs himself in a circle.

“Ah, ah, ah, ah,” Keith admonishes, pulling Shiro’s hands away before he can push into himself. “Use both hands. I wanna see you stretch yourself.”

Aw fuck!

Fuck, fuck, fuck, _Fuck! ___

__Keith is going to be the death of him! Shiro’s heart can hardly bear it._ _

__He nods again, following his baby’s orders. It takes more lube to slick his metal fingers up, and when he reaches back, he’s completely prone. His face is squished into the bedding, his shoulder digging in as he twists his body back._ _

__“Mmmmmm, that’s good,” Keith hums as Shiro’s fingers push inside._ _

__God, that’s a lot. Shiro forgot how thick two fingers are. Especially his metal ones, they don’t have the give his flesh ones have._ _

__“Beautiful, daddy.”_ _

__There’s a soft sound coming from behind him, and Shiro swings himself around to see Keith. The boy is on his knees, pants around his thighs, one hand squeezing at Shiro’s ass, the other stroking himself slow and smooth._ _

__Keith grins as he catches Shiro’s eye. “Just getting myself ready for you.” He winks._ _

__Shiro shudders and falls back into the blankets. He forces his fingers deep and curls, trying to find the spot that’ll light his blood on fire. It doesn’t take long to find it. And after a few strokes the burn of the stretch is only a distant memory, overwhelmed by the need to get himself deeper. He needs to work himself wider if he wants to take his baby._ _

__And he _does!__ _

__He wants to take his baby so bad._ _

__“Yeah, there you go,” Keith murmurs warmly. He drops low and kisses along Shiro’s thighs. His hand slides up to cup at Shiro’s balls._ _

__Keith moves up and presses both hands to Shiro’s cheeks, spreading them wide so Shiro can dig deeper inside himself. Shiro groans at the stretch, at the beautiful burn of being filled. It’s been far too long since he’s felt like this._ _

__“Come on, now, daddy. I want to see you stretch yourself. You can do it.” Keith kisses Shiro’s cheek and then the back of Shiro’s hand._ _

__He wants Shiro to… he wants him to…. God! that’s hot!_ _

__“Yeah! Yeah, baby,” Shiro babbles into the blankets._ _

__He takes a breath and pulls himself apart. It’s just a little at first, just enough to say he did it, but he knows that’s not enough for Keith._ _

__Hell, it’s not enough for himself either. This is a different kind of stretch, and it’s real nice._ _

__Shiro stretches himself again, wider this time._ _

__And then…. The only warning Shiro gets is the press of Keith’s cheeks against the back of his hands and then it’s all over. A hot, wet swipe of Keith’s tongue presses between Shiro’s fingers._ _

__The edge of Keith’s tongue digs at Shiro’s rim and Shiro is overcome. Just like that, he’s a sopping, begging mess in the bed. His cock is drooling precum, his mouth is drooling spit._ _

__“Please, oh god, please, please baby do that again. Baby! Baby, sweet baby, please, please, god, fuck, Keith!” Shiro babbles, hardly stopping to breathe as Keith laps between his fingers again._ _

__Keith pulls back, his hands covering over Shiro’s, urging Shiro to pull out and shove back in, stretching Shiro again before he dives back in for another taste._ _

__“Delicious,” Keith nips at the back of Shiro’s fingers and then licks him over again._ _

__When Keith pulls back again, he switches his grip over to Shiro’s hips and pulls Shiro down. Keith’s cock slides under Shiro’s balls, miming what Keith is going to do to him very soon._ _

__“What do you say, daddy, do you want to come on my tongue?” Keith leans down and licks, wet and disgusting, between Shiro’s shoulder blades. “Or on my cock?” he grinds his hips down again, teasing Shiro’s balls with his cock._ _

__What a fucking decision?_ _

__Shiro’s in no state to make this decision._ _

__Keith’s tongue is so hot, so wet, so pleasing. He could absolutely wreck Shiro with it, and it would be a beautiful thing to come undone around his tongue._ _

__But at the same time, Keith is so hard between Shiro’s legs. He’d be the perfect stretch to hit Shiro deep, just where he likes it._ _

__There are no bad options._ _

__“What do you want, big guy?” A wayward finger slips down between Shiro’s hands and Keith fills him with a third finger._ _

__“Cock!” Shiro shouts. “Cock, I want you cock. Keith, baby, please.”_ _

__“Good choice.” Shiro can hear Keith’s pleased smirk._ _

__There’s a ruffle behind him as Keith shucks off his shirt and pants, and Shiro just keeps fucking himself on two fingers while he waits. Once Keith is stripped, he takes Shiro by the wrist and gently pulls Shiro’s fingers free. Then he drapes himself over Shiro’s back, his cock sliding and teasing between Shiro’s cheeks, the head catching over Shiro’s rim like a torment._ _

__Keith snatches the lube up from the bed and makes a lot of noise as he slicks himself up._ _

__“Ready for me, Takashi?” Keith asks. He’s got one hand on himself, circling the tip of his cock over Shiro’s hole and just barely pressing at the breech. His other hand is heavy on Shiro’s lower back, holding Shiro steady._ _

__Shiro whimpers in response. “Please.”_ _

__“So polite,” Keith strokes his fingers along Shiro’s lower back and pushes himself in. “Fuck you’re tight.”_ _

__Of course Shiro is. They stretched him, yes, but not quite enough to make it easy. But it’s good. That’s just the way Shiro wants it. He wants that burn as Keith forces himself in. He wants that stretch to know his body is accommodating his baby, giving way to Keith’s needs._ _

__Keith eases his way in, fucking inch by inch, backtracking, then fucking in even further. Shiro groans with every inch as his entire body gives way for Keith._ _

__He feels stretched. He feels full. And then he feels fuller than full._ _

__He’s fit to bursting by the time Keith has sunk in entirely. But it’s so good. Shiro contracts just to feel how fat Keith is inside him._ _

__Keith groans and pets over Shiro’s hips, kneading his knuckles into the dip of Shiro’s back._ _

__“Look at you, daddy. So pretty.” He splays his fingers over Shiro’s hips and touches Shiro lovingly. “Little dimples,” Keith says, love thick in his voice as he fingers the dimples at the top of Shiro’s ass._ _

__There’s very little warning when Keith pulls back and strikes himself deep into Shiro once more. It punches out a happy little grunt from Shiro, the pleasure sparking up his back and lighting fireworks behind his eyes._ _

__The only problem with this position is that he can’t see Keith. The boy must look amazing – powerful and commanding, seated this deep inside Shiro._ _

__“What’d’ya think, daddy?” Keith fucks Shiro again, then circles his hips, scrambling Shiro’s insides into the shape of Keith’s desire. “Do you like this?”_ _

__“Yes, baby. Yes, you feel so good. You’re so deep inside me, baby. Give it to me, please. Please.”_ _

__This is so, so good, but Shiro knows Keith can give him more. He knows Keith can fuck every thought out of his body. That’s what Shiro wants._ _

__“Oh, I’ll give it to you.”_ _

__Keith’s hips make a sharp slapping noise with every thrust as he fucks Shiro down and into the mattress. He holds Shiro in place with heavy hands over Shiro’s back, not letting Shiro move an inch as Keith drives into him._ _

__The boy’s got skills. He narrows in on Shiro’s prostate like a homing beacon and abuses is beautifully._ _

__“God, baby! You’re so good to me. Fuck, Keith, right there. That’s it, baby! That’s it, just like that, god! _Christ!_ Fuck! You’re perfect, so perfect…” Half of what Shiro moans is completely incomprehensible, garbled and shouted into the bedspread as it is, but he knows Keith understands. _ _

__“Mm, fuck, sing for me, daddy,” Keith orders. He starts to pull Shiro’s hips back to meet his thrusts, letting Shiro help fuck Keith deeper into him._ _

__Shiro does sing. He sings Keith’s praises in moans, and grunts, and unintelligible encouragement._ _

__He absolutely loses himself in it. The swift, piercing heat of Keith’s cock, the steady beat of their bodies smacking together. The sounds and smells of their rutting. It’s all one glorious mix in Shiro’s mind as he drools into the blankets._ _

__Then Keith leans over Shiro again, pressing them both down low on the bed. Their bodies stick together from sweat, but it doesn’t matter. Their hips just keep working, building up the frenzy between them._ _

__Keith’s teeth find Shiro’s shoulder and dig in, sucking and biting and licking the sweat from Shiro’s skin. Keith pets over Shiro’s sides, he holds Shiro’s ass cheeks and spreads them wide again. He slips a hand down around to Shiro’s stomach and moves to grip his cock and stroke Shiro to orgasm._ _

__“No!” Shiro cries sharply, stopping Keith’s hand, “don’t touch me. I wanna… I wanna… come on your cock!”_ _

__Keith curses and sinks his teeth into Shiro’s shoulder._ _

__“Yeah, daddy. Come on my cock. Just my cock. That’s all you need, isn’t it?”_ _

__Shiro’s eyes are watering with pleasure, with the tension Keith is fucking into his body. “Yes, yes, yes,” he says with each moan._ _

__He’s already so close. Keith is hitting him just right, and he’s so full, so stretched, so perfectly taken care of. And he knows he can – he’s done it once before, albeit years ago with his college fuck buddy, but still. Keith knows Shiro’s body better than any idiot frat boy Shiro had picked up first year._ _

__Keith’s fingers travel upwards instead, groping over Shiro’s chest and plucking at Shiro’s nipples. His mouth maps over the real estate of Shiro’s back, grazing his teeth over a long patch of scars from Shiro’s accident._ _

__“Fuck!” Shiro curses as he gets even closer. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck Keeeeeeee-!”_ _

__“Yeah, Takashi.”_ _

__“Keeee-! I’m… I’m… _Ahhhhh!!_ ” Shiro shouts and cries as Keith finally fucks him over the edge._ _

__Shiro’s whole body tenses and releases like a spring. He bursts over the bed, spraying more with every continued thrust as Keith speeds to his own end. The orgasm runs through Shiro’s veins like ecstasy, making his body go heavy and tingling. He hears ringing in his ears from the force of it, and he’s still babbling, breathless, into the sheets._ _

__It just goes on and on. Every time Shiro thinks it’s stopped, Keith hits that spot deep inside him again and it just keeps going. Shiro’s toes curl and his fingers start to scramble at the blankets as immense pleasure starts to turn in on him. The livewire of his body is going crazy, and Shiro’s about to throw Keith off when the boy sinks in deep and shudders to a stop._ _

__The feeling of warmth spreading inside him is wholly unique. Were it not Keith, Shiro isn’t sure he’d like it, but as it is, it’s a comfort to know he’s so stuffed full of Keith it’ll take hours to drip out._ _

__Keith groans when he finishes pulsing into Shiro’s ass, and he holds his breath as he pulls out._ _

__“How was that, daddy? Feel spoiled?” he asks wearily as he drops to the bed._ _

__Shiro drops his hips to the bed and groans both from the relief of straightening out his hips and from landing his cock right into the wet spot on the bed. Shiro shuffles and shuffles until he’s turned around and crowding into Keith’s space. Then they both crawl to the other end of the bed._ _

__Why is it always Shiro’s side of the bed that they ruin?_ _

__“I dunno,” Shiro says, throwing his voice into a sulk. He waits for Keith to crack an eye at him. “You couldn’t even kiss me like that.”_ _

__Keith chuckles and stretches his arms over his head, giving Shiro space to cuddle in even closer. “I kissed you plenty,” he swats at Shiro’s ass, “right here.”_ _

__“Nuh uh, s’not the same,” Shiro shakes his head, fighting his smile as Keith pulls him down for a kiss._ _

__Shiro gets another kiss. And then another. And another, until he’s thoroughly kissed out (for now, at least). Shiro loves kissing Keith. He could do it for hours. Happily._ _

__In fact, he’d be perfectly happy to never do anything else again, to starve to death here in Keith’s arms. But he can’t deny the world of Keith. And he has plans that involve many more years of being alive with Keith still in his arms._ _

__Besides, everyone has to sleep sometime, and just now Shiro is feeling a power nap coming on._ _

__“I’m glad you liked your present, baby,” Shiro says, giving Keith one last kiss on the cheek before he cuddles down into Keith’s shoulder and closes his eyes._ _

__“I love it, Shiro.”_ _

__“And I love you.” Shiro tilts his head just enough to give Keith a kiss over his pec._ _

__Keith laughs. “What, you love me, or my tit?”_ _

__“Mmmm,” Shiro smiles, “both.”_ _

__Keith snorts and wraps his hands around Shiro’s torso._ _

__“Dork.”_ _

__****_ _

__Keith gets into every university he applied to, but he chooses to stay in the city and go to a very prestigious, local university. He stays in Shiro’s apartment and they convert Shiro’s office into Keith’s. He focuses on music production and uses some start-up money from Shiro to open his own record label. His first signed artist goes platinum within the first year, and his own album makes it into the top 10 before he decides he’d much rather make music for others than perform it himself._ _

__For Shiro’s 10th birthday (his 40th) they fly deep into the mountains and spend a week roughing it. Keith is a natural survivalist, and his knot-work is better than Shiro’s. They don’t get into much trouble up there in the mountains, but they do rescue a young wolf pup from a trap. By the time they’re done fixing the pup up, the wolf has become enamoured with Keith – a feeling Shiro knows all too well. Keith trains him and names him Kosmo, and it only takes a few thousand in bribes to the right people to be allowed to keep a wild animal as a pet._ _

__Lance and Hunk get married after they finish college. Hunk spends the next 5 years working off the debt of his engineering degree working at Kerberos Tech for Shiro. He builds a small nest egg and then he and Lance open a food truck and spend a few years travelling the country and feeding the nation._ _

__Allura and Lotor hold off on their wedding as long as they can, just to give their fathers a bit of healthy anxiety. They finally break and set a date the morning Allura’s test comes back positive. They have a spring wedding when the juniberry flowers are in bloom, and the ceremony is so beautiful it brings Keith to tears._ _

__Pidge eventually takes over as head of development, which is both the proudest and the happiest day for Shiro because he knows how much Pidge deserves it (and because it means he never has to deal with Slav ever again). Matt eventually makes the perfect robot partner and spends the next 10 years of his life fighting the courts to both recognize N-7 as a legal person in their own right, and to allow them the legal right to marry. Coran continues to work in Shiro’s building as concierge. He becomes a 3-time pie eating champion at a local county fair, and he comes in 2nd at the 2021 World Beard and Moustache Championship in New Zealand._ _

__Shiro proposes to Keith no fewer than eight times over the next few years. Every time, he’s met with a coy smile, a kiss, and an “ask me again later.” On his 27th birthday, Keith allows Shiro to sweep him away to a romantic getaway in Milan, with a candlelit dinner on their balcony. After Keith opens all his presents, he asks Shiro “Do you know what I really want for my birthday?”  
When Shiro asks “what?” Keith gets down on his knee with the ring._ _

__“You. For the rest of my life.”_ _

__Shiro cries. Keith cries. They kiss, and they dance under the stars, and they absolutely wreck their hotel bed._ _

__And they all live happily ever after._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I can't even believe this is done. I feel very emotional about this. This has been my life every 2 weeks for MONTHS! I can't believe it's over. Thank you all for coming on this blue-ballin' journey with me. I love love love you all! 
> 
> For those wondering, I am planning on keeping my every-second-Friday posting schedule for the next little while. I was HOPING to have a massively long fic I've been working on finished by the time I finished posting this, but that's not to be. Still, I have a tidy little stockpile of things for you.
> 
> The next fic I'll be posting is a special Christmas Sheith that is like, 90% shitpost. I'm looking forward to it! And then after that, I think I might put a poll on twitter to pick the next one I post. If that interests you, you can give me a follow.   
> Twitter: [@WTuesdays](https://twitter.com/WTuesdays)  
> Tumblr: [WatermelonTuesdays](https://watermelontuesdays.tumblr.com/)
> 
> But THANK YOU AGAIN!!! Your comments and kudos have been feeding me and giving me life for months now! I don't know if anyone's noticed, but Tease has blown all my other fics out of the water stat-wise. It's a little bit ridiculous. But it's all because you all have been so lovely to me. <3<3<3 xoxox


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